Kicking The Bucket List
by jellydonut16
Summary: AU Fed up with life and never being good enough, Lovino makes a Kicking the Bucket List, in which he'll kill himself when it's done. But can a certain Spaniard sweep him off his feet before a noose does? Spamano with hints of Scotmano (ScotlandxRomano)
1. one

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

**_Kicking the Bucket List_**

**one**

**"_I__'__m a candle you__'__d extinguish when you found the sun._"**

**— z.n, ten word story**

Lovino Vargas never really saw himself as the type of person to be depressed. And it's not that he cut himself or that he wanted to die or anything… It's just that he didn't see any reason in living anymore.

Other people, they usually have this sort of reason for their existence. A beacon of light in the dark that consumed their beings, a thread of hope. No matter all the bullshit life threw in their faces, still, they pushed forward. They found the strength to carry on. And, with that, they make it through the day.

In all honesty, Lovino wasn't one of them, no.

He calls it like he sees it, and more often than not, his view on life is… cold. Bleak.

But, in his opinion, very, very real. It wasn't his fault that he didn't shy away from the truth.

Yet somehow, he felt like he was being ungrateful in a way by feeling like this. By most people's standards, he had nothing to complain about. He just graduated with honours he worked his ass off for to get, he's going to his first choice college, and his grandfather had gotten him and his brother a penthouse a five minutes' walk away from campus.

Like, what _else _could he possibly want?

All is good… _Life _is good. Right?

Wrong.

For the Italian, he felt as if he were okay, yet somehow _not _okay. He couldn't even begin to describe what the actual _fuck _he was feeling, and truth be told, all this quasi-okayishness was beginning to fuck with his head.

It was that point of life where he was wondering, '_Why the fuck do I even exist?_'

* * *

><p>…Alright.<p>

So _perhaps _there was a reason for his existence. It was more like a purpose he was born to do, as opposed to some self-actualised discovery of one's source of joy.

Feliciano is Lovino's younger brother by a whopping twenty minutes.

Yes, they're twins.

And don't even fucking say that those twenty minutes couldn't _possibly _make a fucking difference, because it did, it does, and it _always will_.

So shut up, dammit.

He liked to think of them as polar opposites. Lovino was, admittedly, an asshole with a vengeance and an obsession with anything and _everything _by Mario Puzo (Author of _The Godfather_? _The Last Don_? _Anyone_?! _Dio mio_, this guy's a _god_.) and… tomatoes.

_..Shut up. I know what you__'__re thinking, dickhead, and you better keep your damn thoughts to yourself before I__— _Dio mio_, I don__'__t even know__— __throttle you, dammit!_

Ahem.

…Whereas Feliciano was the happy-go-lucky idiot who was, like, a fucking art prodigy obsessed with, uh, pasta. Definitely not starving artist material, no.

Don't even try to judge Feliciano for obsessing about pasta, either. Italian food is fucking _orgasmic_. It automatically PWNs all those other cuisines, so your argument is invalid.

_A-Anyway, getting kinda off topic here, dammit__… _Let it just be said that Feliciano was the _better _twin. The nicer, better-looking twin, who had his future laid out for him as a great artist. Hell, he even graduated as fucking _valedictorian_. How the fuck that happened, Lovino would never know.

What he _does _know is that his _fratello__'__s _valedictory speech was in Italian. It was a 10-minute long speech about fucking _pasta_. Lovino remembers he was just sitting there, trying not to shit himself laughing because _all _of the faculty members were fucking moved to _tears _with Feliciano's speech.

No, it couldn't be about how all of them had grown up and were now, hell, 'taking flight' to different colleges and universities. About all of the bullshit the seniors went through in order to complete all of their requirements, and how the memories they've shared together would always remain with him 'til he took his last breath. No, it had to be about _pasta_.

_Fucking pasta._

"Ve~ Pasta has always played an important role in my life. Whenever I felt like being lazy— which is often, tee-hee— my older brother Lovino would always give me the strength to carry on by threatening to stop cooking me pasta~! Even though I can cook my own pasta myself anyway, his pasta tastes out of this world! It tastes amazing, and I hope you all could try it sometime, but he complains enough while making pasta for me, so I don't think that'd be a good idea~ Thank you, Lovi! For the pasta! I love you! Please continue cooking pasta for me in college! _Please_!"

…At least he got a shout-out during that speech. E-Even though there was that fucking 'complaining' bit, it was the truth. No one else understood the speech anyway.

And after all he's done for Feliciano, he was kind of… happy to actually be acknowledged by his _fratellino_ somehow. He was definitely not moved to tears for that bit, _hell _no— he was just— just t-tearing up from laughing so hard, d-dammit…

Anyways, being Feliciano's 'pasta-maker' was just _one _of the many, _many _roles Lovino had to take.

He was Feliciano's bodyguard for one.

Ever since he and Feliciano were in kindergarten, these rotten little brats would always try picking on the latter by bullying him.

AKA by stealing his crayons.

Bitch, nobody steals Feliciano Vargas' crayons without _Paying The Ultimate Price_.

If Feli's crayons were taken by some dipshit, then Lovino would come in to the rescue. He would pummel his fists into those ugly— _Dio mio_, so fucking ugly— fat faces and steal those crayons _right _back.

E-Even _if _doing so landed Lovino in the time-out corner.

Feliciano was fragile. He was not.

He could take it, so he did. Even as a kid, he felt like he d-deserved it anyway… he was a pretty rude little shit back then. And he often found himself that maybe, this was the price he had to pay.

For not being good enough.

Over time, it got worse. The beatings became more frequent, and he was ganged up on a lot. He always told Feliciano not to tell anyone though— _especially _not _Nonno_— because he didn't want to hear his own grandfather scolding him about how he should be more… _sweet_, like Feliciano. How he probably had it coming to him with how rude he was.

Even as a child, Lovino didn't want to be reminded how he was never good enough.

Like, he was fully aware ofit already. Any other reminder of the fact would be like rubbing his insecurities and shortcomings right in his face.

And he had too many of those to count.

One day, though, in middle school, one of the beatings he got was so bad, it landed him in the hospital because he had a swollen jaw, a busted lip, a black eye and a few broken ribs.

The grown-ups didn't know it was the work of a bunch of beady-eyed twelve year-olds who got their kicks out of making others feel as shitty as they actually were. Lovino said he fell off a tree he was climbing, and no one questioned him twice for it. He had a knack for being clumsy anyway.

Plus, he had a hunch they wouldn't understand, let alone _try _to. All they'd do is cross their arms over their chests, look at him with disappointment, and blame it on him not being good enough and how he brought it all on himself.

Once the brief wave of concern had washed away, _Nonno _was pissed at him for getting himself _this _beat up by falling off a fucking _tree_.

Then Feliciano told _Nonno_ the truth. _Feli, you little snitch, _Lovino remembered himself thinking as _Nonno _abruptly stormed out of the hospital room, pulling the younger twin with him.

He assumed that it was safe to say that _Nonno _rained hellfire upon the school the next morning. He wasn't there to see the glorious moment for himself, but his tormentors had gotten suspended.

It was one of the best days of his life.

Albeit the absence of the bullies in school, _Nonno _immediately moved them out of that hellhole and to another one. A private academy in their hometown of Verona back in Italy.

* * *

><p>Years passed. Lovino not only had the role of being Feliciano's bodyguard, he had gotten partial responsibility of <em>Nonno<em>_'__s _role of caretaker, too.

Ever since they moved to Verona, _Nonno _had become increasingly busy, often going on business trips that left an awkwardly maturing 13-year old Lovino in charge of the house _and _his brother.

He was the eldest, after all.

And, voluntarily or not, he had assumed the role of being the p-protector of Feliciano's… goddammit— _virginity_.

See, when you go through, uh, puberty, you start to feel things you think is the work of _amore_, but it _isn__'__t amore_, it's an infatuation. And once that thing shatters the fuck out of your pre-pubescent heart, you tend to feel like it's the end of the world. Only worse.

Boo-hoo.

But as long as _Lovino _was around, no one would ever dare lay a hand on his _fratello__'__s _heart, and thus, automatically, his _fratello__'__s _virginity. I-It's not that he _cared _or anything, he just didn't want Feliciano to deal with all the heartache and come crying to him for _Dio _knows how long.

Yet still, that didn't prevent Feliciano from making friends, of course.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Feliciano began to… branch out. He started making friends— a _lot _of them, actually.

He began to go to parties, hang out with his friends after class, and he began to do his own thing.

He became more independent.

It was around that time that struck this hidden fear inside of Lovino, that Feliciano wouldn't need him anymore. And another fear, much, much worse…

The fear of being alone.

* * *

><p>When it was time for them to go to high school, <em>Nonno<em> had taken them out of their current school and moved them back to the place where they grew up; America. It was out-of-the-blue; unexpected.

Lovino didn't know if it was a good change.

But it was the first time in a long while he felt like he was good enough, like he was wanted. Everyone wanted to hang out with the 'new kids', especially because they were hot and Italian.

He relished in the feeling, and he loved how the girls showered him with attention whenever he spoke in Italian.

But it didn't… It didn't last that long.

Feliciano began to have more and more friends. He became popular in school, while Lovino was just… derping in the shadows, like a shady and angsty motherfucker. No matter how hard he tried to be good enough, he always fell short of perfection. People preferred his _fratello _over him. They always did.

Always will.

* * *

><p>It was at that time, sophomore year, when he discovered his talent in writing.<p>

He oft immersed himself in movies and books, so whenever he was bored, he would write down little ideas and excerpts that popped in his head during class, and pore over them later when he got home from school. He had… no one to pass notes with, anyway.

But still, his mind was swimming in his thoughts. Continually, they slowly began to suffocate him.

He couldn't stop focusing on every single mistake he had ever made, breaking it down into smaller parts, and discerning what could've been if he'd said _this_, or if he'd done _that_. All that overthinking made his head spin.

One morning, though, he had this— this line in his head that bugged him all morning and he couldn't shake it off, so he decided to write it down on a piece of notebook paper.

**_They say __'__you only gave as good as you got__'_**

**_I gave my all_**

**_but it was still not enough_**

He blinked once, twice, hazel eyes rereading the note in his sun-kissed hands. He let the words sink in as he reflected on it.

His grip on the piece of paper tightened.

The bell went off, so he stood up, shoved the note in the bottom of his backpack, and slung it over his shoulder while walking out of the classroom.

* * *

><p>That was the same note Lovino found himself rereading at the moment.<p>

He was in the midst of fixing his backpack for classes tomorrow when he came across the crumpled piece of paper.

It sent his mind whirring into overdrive, when he realised something he'd been denying all along.

One day, Feliciano will _inevitably _grow up.

One day, he won't need Lovino anymore.

One day, he will be able to stand on his own two feet and forsake the brother that has only ever been there for him in the first place.

One day, Lovino would be forgotten, his reason, his _purpose _for existing diminishing along with it.

And where the fuck would that leave him? What would he do with himself now?

What of all the things he'd ever done for Feliciano?

He's built Feliciano up, only for he himself to be the one crumbling down. He'd put Feliciano before him too much, too often, he had lost sight of himself and who he was in the first place.

_What do I stand for? Who am I in the first place? _Dio_, what do I even _want_?_

Was he just a blank slate?

A stepping stone?

A scapegoat?

He felt conflicted.

Slowly, he set the note back down on his desk.

_What__'__ll happen to me when Feliciano doesn__'__t need me anymore? _He thought to himself.

He wasn't really good at anything— well, nothing that'd make _Nonno _relatively proud of him, anyway.

Maybe that was why he was all alone in the penthouse he and Feliciano shared while the latter was out with his friends for dinner before college started. They— he and Lovino— breathed the same air, yes, and they lived in the same apartment, yes, and were going to the same college… yet even then, Lovino couldn't shake away the feeling that he and Feliciano were worlds away.

As if they lived in two different realities.

Same book, yes, but not on the same page.

The Italian got up from his chair and flopped down onto the bed, a groan escaping his lips. He buried his head in the pillows for a few minutes, letting his thoughts take over, before he finally raised his head up and pulled the drawer built into his bedside table open. In it was a pad of paper, a couple of pens, a bunch of knickknacks he'd probably throw away at the end of the year.

He pulled the notepad and a pen out of the drawer before shutting it close. Lovino made himself more comfortable on the bed and rested his weight on his elbows, letting the words tauntingly dancing through his mind settle a bit so he could collect his thoughts and perceive what was to be written.

It was a bucket list. One that'd last four years— the entire duration he would be in college.

'_But why four years? Aren__'__t bucket lists for life?__'_

A small bitter smile crept upon the Italian's lips.

He wasn't living a life.

He was merely existing.

It was a pathetic ghost of all that he could've been capable of, all he could've achieved, but in the end, all his efforts had been in vain. By the time they graduated, Feliciano would be launched into a world full of opportunities that awaited him. He was an artist on the rise of glory and fame. It was only a matter of time before he reached that zenith.

Feliciano wouldn't need him anymore, thus rendering Lovino's existence o-_obsolete_.

The older twin, always forgotten, _always _hidden in the shadows, would no longer serve a fucking _purpose_.

_So why not embrace the dark when it__'__s all I__'__ve ever known?_

He brought his pen to the paper's surface. He began to write.

**[_] Watch a Broadway play— Chicago preferred— with front-row seats.**

**[_] Watch a FIFA football game.**

**[_] Go to the beaches in California for spring break.**

**[_] Write a screenplay.**

**[_] Try smoking weed (YOLO?)**

**[_] Visit Verona again.**

**[_] Cruise around the streets of Paris in a limousine while drinking champagne like a classy ass motherfucker.**

**[_] Trigger a Jäger-train.**

**[_] Discover inner muse at the Louvre.**

**[_] Try absinthe in Amsterdam (fuck yeah, YOLO)**

**[_] Change someone's life.**

**[_] …Make Nonno PROUD of me for ONCE.**

The thing is, this _wasn__'__t _just a bucket list, no. Because by the time he's finished all of the things on his list, Feliciano probably wouldn't need him anymore. The bucket list would give him some sort of incentive to go on with life, but when Feliciano is finally independent, he will have finally fulfilled his purpose, as well as accomplished everything he ever wanted to do.

_Why bother staying alive when there__'__s nothing to live for? I might as well just _die_, right?_

Lovino wrote the following words at the top of the page: KICKING THE BUCKET LIST.

With that, he pulled away a fraction and inspected each and every item on the list.

_What else do I want to do?_

The corner of his lips twitched upwards into a smirk.

It's something he's been wanting to do for quite a while now. Going about the task would prove to be difficult and quite possibly life-threatening, but it was a risk he'd be willing to take since the outcome would be well worth the sacrifice.

**[_] Trim that stupid British eyebrow bastard's eyebrows.**

Satisfied with this, he set his pen down.

The list— though subject to change— for now, was complete.

* * *

><p><strong>Translations:<strong>

_Dio mio - _Oh, my God (It.)

_fratello _- brother (It.)

_fratellino _- younger brother (It.)

_nonno _- grandfather (It.)

_amore _- love (It.)

_Dio _- God (It.)

**~jellydonut16~**


	2. two

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_**Kicking the Bucket List**_

**two**

"_**Eyes like a car crash,**_

_**I know I shouldn**__**'**__**t look**_

_**but I can**__**'**__**t turn away.**_**"**

— _**Deathbeds **_**by Bring Me The Horizon**

Ah, Evergreen Hollows University— a prestigious college with world-renowned education and a bustling international community. Settled in the outskirts of the city, albeit all of the modernisation that surrounds it, it still retains its natural charm. The campus itself is partially enshrouded in the wood after which it was named.

The most popular spot for students to often frolic in was the hollow itself. It was a steep path down off the horse-trodden course (EHU also has an award-winning equestrian team). The students, often seniors who had yet to complete their thesis in order to graduate, tended to frequent the hollow around the end of the academic year.

It is said to be a popular spot for disgruntled to-be graduates to throw themselves in the literal pit of despair when they finally realised they could not keep up with all the requirements, and were bound to repeat another year. It was said that once they went in the wood during that specific time of year, they were never seen alive again.

Others said that in the wood— the hollow, specifically, lurked numerous monstrous atrocities of folklore— or Creepypasta; whichever you prefer. Many freshmen are oft coerced (forced) into trekking in the forest in the dead of night, with naught but a single flashlight to illuminate their paths and paranoia-stricken hallucinations of Slenderman derping in the shadows _behind that tree_!

Why?

In order to be accepted into the various fraternities and sororities the university had of course. None were officialised by EHU, but ran rampant anyway.

Lovino… wasn't exactly sure that the fuck he was thinking when he applied for this school. Actually, yeah, he _did_— which may or may not be partly because of Feliciano— but that was besides the point.

He also thought that his college guide needed to lay the fuck off the Internet and conspiracy theories.

Maybe get a life— _Hah! Fucking ironic.__— _or quite possibly get laid.

_At least, _he thought to himself, _I got to enrol in the course I wanted._

He would be taking creative writing, webbed with Performing Arts. In the near future, he was to begin dabbling in screenplay writing that would undoubtedly rake in The Big Bucks. Y'know. Movie-worthy scripts, like anything by Nicholas Sparks or John Green. In his fourth year, he would become a playwright for his very own play, collaborating with those taking courses under Performing Arts, only with different roles. He would be working with the actors and actresses, the prop-makers, the stage hands, the directors, and everyone else essential in the making of a play and bringing it to life.

Truth be told, he was excited about it— but _only just a little_, dammit!

Feliciano's major, however, would be— surprise, surprise— art with specialisation in painting. It shouldn't be too hard for him. Feliciano's already had his work displayed in exhibits, after all. Even back in Italy.

…Talented little shit.

Now all of this was just a five-minute walk away from campus.

If _only _Feliciano would hurry up so they could, gee, perhaps maybe _leave_?

Lovino rapped his knuckles against Feliciano's bedroom door for the umpteenth time, feeling impatient and irritated. "Feli, hurry the fuck up already! It's the first day of fucking classes and I _don__'__t _wanna miss shit!"

"Ve~ Just a minute!" Feliciano jovially sung out from the other side of the door. "I'm almost done, _fratello_~!"

Several more seconds of shuffling and fussing about later, the door had open to reveal a photo op-ready Feliciano, who was practically bouncing out of the room in excitement. "Let's go, _fratello_! Don't want to be late now, don't we? We're finally in college! I'm so excited! I can't wait to make new friends in the art department and—"

"_Dio mio_," Lovino quickly interjected, massaging the bridge of his nose. "Shut up, Feliciano. I don't want a migraine on the first day of class, dammit!"

Feli pouted at him. "Ve~ I hope you make friends Lovi…" His voice was laced with concern, as if it were something important enough to be concerned about.

The older twin snorted, shaking his head at the thought. "Yeah, yeah; whatever."

With that, the twins made their way out of their apartment building and walked to school.

* * *

><p>Lovino's first class of the day was math.<p>

There were many things he sucked at, and algebra was one of them (_fuck_ _algebra_).

However, his class starts at nine-forty. Thus, he had an hour or so to kill. Feliciano immediately surrounded himself with his friends from high school who were taking different courses. Lovino, merely fulfilling his purpose, kinda just fucking _loomed _behind Feliciano. His _fratello__'__s _shitty friends didn't acknowledge him.

_Actually, fuck this shit. I need caffeine. _He suddenly decided, abruptly turning around and stalking off to the general direction of the Starbucks the twins had passed earlier. As if on cue, Feliciano, at that moment, decided to pull Lovi in the conversation so he wouldn't be so alone.

"Ve~ Tell them about your course, Lovi…" he trailed off, watching his _fratello _storm off. For a split second, his mouth curved down into an uncharacteristic frown before he managed to put on a smile again.

Just as he was about to apologise for his brother just… walking away, he was— "Oi, Feli! Over here!" —interrupted.

He turned around to face the source of the noise and beamed. "Hi Gilbert!"

Feliciano excused himself from his group of friends and skipped over to the sophomore he hadn't seen nearly all year. Immediately, he gave the self-proclaimed Prussian a hug. "Ve~ I haven't seen you in _ages_! I'm so glad to see you!"

The Prussian hugged back with just as much vigour as the two swayed from side to side. "Kesese~ I missed you too, Feli-cakes!" He pulled away a fraction, a look of mock surprise and astonishment on his face. "What's this? I hugged you, yet there's no protective older brother to assault me?! _Mein Gott_, this is awesome!"

The Italian sighed, "He walked off somewhere just a minute ago. I hope he's alri—"

"_Mon Dieu_, it that you, Feliciano?"

Feliciano turned to Big Brother Francis, hugging him ebulliently. He hadn't seen him nearly all year either! _Ve~ This is great!_

Francis hugged him back, his hand inconspicuously drifting down towards some Italian Ass. Feliciano picked up on it, so he pulled away from the hug, the Frenchman's hand dropping back down to his side with it.

If Lovi saw him hugging Francis and Gilbert, he'd be having a fit!

He didn't understand why Lovi hated them so much. They're pretty nice…

A voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Feliciano, we'd like you to meet our friend Antoine," Francis said, pushing a man towards the smaller Italian. 'Antoine' had unruly brown hair, tan skin, and shining emerald eyes. A tinge of red had dusted 'Antoine's' sun-kissed cheeks.

"Ahaha~ _Hola_, Feliciano! Just call me Antonio or Toni." Antonio said, sheepishly grinning at the Italian. The latter smiled at him.

"Ve~ And, of course, I'm Feliciano! But you can call me Feli." The two shook hands for a second, though Antonio's hand lingered for a moment longer than it should have.

"_Si, si_! It's nice to meet you, Feli!" Toni chirped, his grin widening.

Feliciano pulled his hand away, "Nice to meet you too, Toni!"

Gilbert had wrapped his arm around Antonio's shoulder, putting his weight on the other. "Kesese~ Antonio here has been our friend for _years_! Thing is, the year he left for Spain was the year _you_ came in. But thank _Gott _he moved back here for freshman year in college! Franny and I thought we'd never be able to see him until we graduated!"

Antonio laughed along, his eyes twinkling. And not in that same menacing way Gilbert's ruby red eyes did, or in the knowing way Big Brother Francis' cerulean blue eyes did. He just looked so happy~!

…_Very_ happy~!

Feliciano knew that look. It was the same look many boys and girls had given him before Lovi put his _Virginity Guardian Armour_ on and just— h-_hovered_ there and glared at them until they left. If they were persistent, he would cut them down with his words.

I-It was _very _effective, ve~

_Oh, _fratello_…_

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, Lovino had stepped into Starbucks, the fragrant aroma of coffee wafting through the air. He got in the relatively short queue, eyes scanning the menu overhead even though he had his order in mind already. Just as the guy in front of him turned around after getting his coffee, hazel eyes met forest green ones.<p>

The Italian's throat constricted and he suddenly found it hard to breathe.

Almost immediately, he felt his cheeks warm as the stranger gave him an amiable smile, the tilt of his head sending tousled, vibrant red— _Dio mio_, such a beautiful shade of _rosso_— locks over his forehead.

"Good mornin'," he said, the timbre of his voice sending shivers down his spine. And holy shit, that fucking accent. _Unf._ Where was he from? He sounded English, for all the Italian knew, yet it wasn't the same accent the eyebrow bastard had used.

He walked past Lovino and out of the store, Lovino's heart racing as he quickly turned around to watch the retreating redhead walk in the general direction of the campus. He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat.

"…Sir? Would you still like to order?"

Snapped out of his thoughts, he turned to face the girl manning the cashier and he gave her a charming smile all the while trying to suppress the flush that had kissed his tan cheeks. He quickly ordered his caffeine fix in hopes of seeing the redhead still walking down the street, though he doubted he would still see him.

As soon as he got his non-fat caramel macchiato latte with a helping of whipped cream and chocolate syrup, he half-sprinted out of the store and stared down the path _he _took.

It was just as he expected. The redhead was gone.

The Italian suddenly found the urge to write lots and lots about this stranger, his inner muse acting up.

_What the fuck__'__s gotten into me, d-dammit__…_

* * *

><p>By the time the first class was to begin, Lovino had taken a seat at the back of the room, paper and pen poised before him on the desk.<p>

He c-couldn't shake the thoughts of _him _out of his head. A-And it was annoying as fuck— he was supposed to be concentrating on the lesson or introduction that was to come, and that redheaded bastard was fucking with his thoughts, dammit!

It's _all his fault_.

…A-All his… fault.

The room began to fill with freshman students; his future peers. They occupied the seats in groups and cliques, both a mixture of those who went to the same high school and those who met at EHU's freshman general assembly a week ago.

A brunette walked up to the seat beside his. "Um, excuse me," he said.

Lovino glanced up to look at him. "The fuck do you want?"

"Ahaha~ I was wondering if this seat was taken?" he asked, grinning sheepishly at the Italian.

The latter's eyes narrowed a fraction. "…No, it isn't."

"Then can I, ah, sit here?"

"Cheh. Do whatever you want, bastard." Lovino turned away.

The brunette grinned, laughing lightly. "_Gracias, mi amigo_! I'm Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, by the way. You?"

Lovino scowled at Antonio. "I'm not your fucking _amigo_, dammit. Now leave me the fuck alone!"

"Then tell me your name first~!"

The Italian looked at the Spaniard incredulously. "…Why the fuck would I do that?"

"Because we're going to be seatmates all year?"

_Tch, touche._

Lovi sighed and mumbled something incoherent under his breath.

Antonio leant forward a fraction. "What?"

Another mumble.

"What was that now?"

The other suddenly snapped his head to face the Spaniard, hazel eyes alight with irritation. The latter was taken aback, nonplussed by the reaction. Did he say something wrong..?

"I said my name is Lovino. Now leave me the fuck alone, dammit!"

Toni half-raised his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Okay, okay; _lo siento_,"

The Italian didn't give a response, engrossing himself with pen and paper. He was writing something down, the tip of the pen bobbing to and fro frantically.

Antonio was confused. The first class of the year hadn't started yet, and they had homework already? He shook the thoughts out of his head and replayed the morning over and over in his head, a smile tugging at his lips.

_Feliciano is so cute~!_

Truth be told, the moment he saw the cute and bubbly Italian, he was immediately attracted to him. Everything about Feliciano was so _adorable_~!

Antonio was sure everything about Feliciano was wonderful. The next time he saw Feliciano, he'd definitely ask him out!

_Maybe I should ask Franny or Gil to help me out, _he thought to himself, pulling a notebook out from his backpack. He cracked it open and went to the very back of the notebook. He drew a pen out of his pocket and immediately began to scribble hearts with Feli's name in them.

He was smitten, alright.

* * *

><p>As Lovino tried to ignore the presence beside him, he knew it was inevitable that he'd have a seatmate. He just hoped the bastard would know to leave him alone.<p>

He reread the page, poring over his handiwork with eyes censorious and critical.

**it****'****s funny how seeing someone**

**for only a split second**

**can stir such a tempest**

**of confusion inside of you**

**and awaken things you****'****ve never**

**known you were capable**

**of feeling before.**

**all falls apart yet falls into place**

**like the calm in the eye of a storm.**

**despite all this confusion**

**i still want to see you**

**again and again and again.**

He gulped, feeling conscious and hyperaware of the person beside him. Normally, he wouldn't give two shits about his seatmates, but that was only because the things he wrote were not related to love, nothing cringe-worthy. No, not at all.

He'd be lying if he said he's written about love before.

The Italian anxiously chewed on his bottom lip.

…_You__'__ve captivated me._

* * *

><p>The professor immediately began the introduction of the subject, handing out the syllabi and going over their schedule in preparation for the weeks ahead, as well as a briefing on the topic they'd be having during their next meeting.<p>

Lovino was listening, he wrote down notes and all, but he felt like he was stuck elsewhere.

Like he wasn't in the room. He did things automatically, as if on autopilot, and as soon as the bell rang, he just walked out of class, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

The sheet of paper was neatly folded and tucked into his the pocket of his jeans.

Moments after keeping his things, Antonio got up and walked out of the room for his next subject.

The notebook that he'd been doodling on was safely tucked in the confines of his backpack.

Neither person had said one word to the other the entire class.

* * *

><p><strong>Translations:<strong>

_fratello _- brother (It.)

_Dio mio _- Oh my God (It.)

_Mein Gott _- Oh my God (Dt.)

_Mon Dieu _- Oh my God (Fr.)

_hola _- hello (Esp.)

s_i _- yes (Esp.)

_Gott _- God (Dt.)

_rosso _- red (It.)

_gracias _- thank you (Esp.)

_mi amigo _- my friend (Esp.)

_lo siento _- sorry (Esp.)

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for all of the feedback, follows and favourites! For this fic, I will be going with Himaruya<strong>**'****s perception of Scotland, which is: ****"****In my image, He is friendly and brave. likes alcoholic, cat, haggis, rich cultural heritage!****" ****Sorry about the anti-climatic ending. There****'****s not much room for sparks when you****'****re busy fawning over other people.**

**Please review!**

**~jellydonut16~**


	3. three

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

**_Kicking the Bucket List_**

**three**

**"I would  
><strong>**rather be  
><strong>**lost in a city  
><strong>**than in a person."  
><strong>**— Noor Shirazie**

To say Lovino was worried was an understatement. He was _terrified_.

And who wouldn't be, feeling all of these foreign… _emotions _out of the blue, merely after catching a glimpse of a passing stranger? A beautiful, mesmerising exception in the sea of people that surrounded him.

He'd never been in love before, and though he _did _often flirt with girls, he hadn't the desire to kiss them, or to be anything more than friends or acquaintances with them. In fact, if you'd asked him what he thought of love prior this morning, his answer would've been along the lines of, _What even is love?_

_Why is it called that?_

_How does one know if it truly _is _love and not some impassioned momentary infatuation? Temporary hormone-induced frisson?_

_Love, in a supposed romantic sense, is a four-letter lie filled with false hope and empty promises. It__'__s as trivial as it is superfluous._

But now he wasn't so sure.

"…_Fratello_? _Fratello_! Ve~ Lovi, listen when I'm talking to you~!" Feliciano's whining had eventually gotten to the older Vargas brother and it brought him out of his reverie. He licked his lips and turned to face Feliciano, eyes narrowed in slight irritation.

"What? What is it?" He demanded, feeling heat creep up his cheeks as if he'd been caught doing something bad. Was it guilt he was feeling, or embarrassment?

"Lovi," Feli reiterated, grabbing his _fratello__'__s _arm and giving it a small shake. "My professor for Introduction to Art is _the _Theodore Lennox! Ve~ I'm so excited!"

Lovino raised an eyebrow up, "Who the fuck is that?"

Feliciano pulled away a fraction, aghast, "Duh! He's only, like, one of the _biggest_ influences in my art! His works are _extraordinary_! _Dio mio_, Lovi, I feel so honoured just being in his presence~!"

The other Italian snorted. "Yeah, whatever. Calm your tits, Feliciano."

Almost instinctively, Feli gasped and put his hands over his chest in mock offence. "Ve~ I don't have boobs, _fratello_! That's mean!"

The older twin held back a chuckle. _What a fucking idiot._

"Anyways, how was your morning, _fratello_? Did you make any friends?" Feliciano queried, reaching over to shake Lovino's arm again. The latter shrugged his arm out of the former's grasp, rolling his eyes.

"Well, what do you think?"

Feliciano sighed, pouting at his older brother in a mixture of disapproval and disappointment. _Ve~ Why can__'__t he at least _try _to make friends?_

"Ve~ Why can't you at least _try _to make friends?"

"Why the fuck should I?"

"Well, _why not_?"

"Hmm. Touché, but no."

Feliciano harrumphed and put his hands on either side of his waist. Lovino internally cringed. _Fuck my life, not another one of Feliciano__'__s_ _fucking sermons, goddammit, what the _fuck_…_

The younger of the two had these… parental moments, in which he would actually fucking _lecture _Lovino about the importance of friends and branching out to others so he wouldn't feel so alone. The latter, at first, found them hysterical. He couldn't take his brother seriously (TBH, he still doesn't), so he just sat there, trying to suppress his raucous laughter.

But over time, it just kinda became more… bland and pathetic, so Lovino was just like, "Meh, whatever."

Just as Feliciano was about to begin the 30-minute lecture that'd probably consume the rest of their lunch break, someone had called out to him.

"Hey, Feli!"

Both the Vargas brothers turned to look at the source of the noise. Lovino internally seethed. It was the annoying fucker from his morning algebra class, dammit.

Antonio jogged over, looking so fucking _jovial_, Lovino could feel the happiness emanating from the Spaniard's being.

Ew.

"How the fuck does he know you?" Lovino asked, only loud enough for Feli to hear as Toni soon approached them.

Feliciano laughed nervously. Lovi felt suspicious and skeptical as fuck.

As Antonio's jogging slowed down to a walk, he cast a brief glance at Lovino. "Oh, _hola_, Lovino."

The latter sneered. "Fuck off."

The Spaniard, feeling sheepish and awkward, glanced at Feliciano. "Say, can I, uh, talk to you for a second?"

"Ve~ I'm all ears." Feliciano cheerfully replied, though he was internally panicking.

"…Ahaha~ In private?" Toni added, casting a quick glance at the other twin.

"Look, bastard, whatever you have to say to Feliciano, you can say in front of me." Lovino grit out, glaring daggers at the brunette.

"Uh… _Si, si_! Okay then~!"

Big mistake, Antonio.

"Feliciano, would you like to go out with me sometime?"

_Very big mistake._

Almost instantly, there was a huge crash that got both Antonio and Feliciano's attention— the metaphorical sound of Lovino putting his _Virginity Guardian Armour _on, and the literal sound of his fists slamming against the outdoor plastic table. Feli began to panic, rushing to his older brother's side.

"Excuse _you_?" Lovino demanded the Spaniard, standing up from his seat. "What the fuck do you think you're _doing_?"

"Ve~ Lovi, calm down!" Feliciano whined, clinging to his brother like a leech.

"'Excuse me'..? I— I was just—" Antonio stuttered, alarmed with the reaction of the seething Italian.

_Mierda. Why is he always so angry? What did I do?!_

"Toni! Run! Run like the wind, ve~!" The other twin cried out as Lovino started to stomp towards Antonio. The latter instinctively took several steps back in shock.

"That's _my brother _you're hitting on, you bastard! And if you think I'm gonna turn a blind eye while you corrupt _mio fratello__'__s _mind and body with your fucking idiocy and Spanishness, dammit, then you've got another thing coming right at you, dick weed!" With that being said, Lovino began to stomp (limp) towards the Spaniard, albeit the extra baggage and weight that came in the form of his younger brother.

Antonio stilled, shocked. But that only lasted a moment before he turned around and took off.

"Yeah, that's right! You _better _run, you piece of shit!" Lovino growled out, trying to pry his _fratellino _off of his being. "Dammit, Feliciano! Let go of me! What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"V-Ve~ You didn't have to be so mean, _fratello_! I would have turned him down, anyway!"

The older Vargas brother gave Feli The Evil Eye. "No," he said, voice low, grave and ominous. "You wouldn't have. You would've said 'yes' because you don't know how to let people off nicely. You're too kind, dammit. You wear your heart on your sleeve and I don't want you getting hurt, Feliciano…"

Feliciano's honey brown eyes softened as he pulled away from his brother, taking his hand. "I know that, _fratello_. But I don't want you to get hurt either."

"I don't get hurt. And even if I did, I could take it anyway." Lovino quickly interjected, his frown deepening.

The other twin opened his mouth to retort, only to close it again and shake his head sadly.

Lovino hated that he upset Feliciano. All he wanted to do was to protect him, yet here his younger brother was, hurt. Because of him.

He hated himself for it. He shrugged Feliciano's hand off, grabbed his backpack and walked away.

All he ever does is hurt people.

And in turn, they hurt him.

It's a fucked up concept of 'give-and-take', but this was his reality. There was nothing else he could do about it, right?

* * *

><p>Lovino wandered to the outskirts of the campus, nearing the wood. He saw a well worn path leading into the thick forest and briefly contemplated going in.<p>

He decided he didn't want to die an early death yet— he hadn't completed a thing on his bucket list, after all— and opted to walk past the pathway and to some sort of garden.

It was filled with flora of all types, with the shrubbery clipped to perfection.

After walking a bit more, he discovered he was the only one there. He saw a bench nearby, so he sat on it and pulled the note out of his pocket. Carefully, he unfolded it, and read it again with caution.

How could someone have such an effect on him?

If only he could see those beautiful forest green eyes again.

He closed his eyes and sighed, thinking of what had just transpired earlier with Feliciano. Thoughts begin to run rampant in his head. Words began to form.

Abruptly, his hazel eyes snapped open and he reached for his backpack, hastily reaching for his notepad before the words left him. He fumbled around for a pen and immediately scribbled down his thoughts at the moment, word for word.

**i will push you away**

**and wonder why**

**no one ever**

**comes to save me**

He held the notepad close to his face, eyes narrowing as he scrutinised the last line.

'_Save me__'__?_

Save him from what? What was he, some kind of fucking 'damsel-in-distress'? Hell, he could take what all those bullies have dealt him, but they couldn't take what they dished out.

He's strong, yet at the same time, he is weak. All these years of protecting Feliciano, yet the very action had hardened his heart, whilst Feliciano wore his on his sleeve. So free, so daring— because love is a scary thing.

At least it is, for Lovino. He could never bear the thought of baring himself to someone, letting them in. Because once you let someone in, they go ahead and they destroy you.

He's never experienced it before, but he won't, he _doesn__'__t want to_.

But the stranger with the eyes as green as the wood that surrounded him… Would Lovino… let him in?

Would that stranger be the one he opens his heart to? He imagined hushed whispering with him at 3AM, the bedsheets riding low on their bare hips as the words he whispers are the truest he has ever said to anyone. But then that'd prove all he's told himself out loud has been nothing but lies.

Has it always been a lie?

…He has too many issues, dammit. And if he couldn't understand the intricacies of his inner workings, how could anyone else?

Nobody could ever love someone like him, anyway, so why the hell did it even matter to him?

Why _should _it matter to him? Right?

* * *

><p>After the first day of classes, Lovino walked home alone. Feliciano was going to hang out with his friends a bit longer before going home as well.<p>

Barely five minutes had passed, and Lovino already found himself in front of their apartment building. He went up to the penthouse and left his bag on the floor by the couch before collapsing on top of it.

He just felt so fucking tired.

Was having emotions other than anger actually _this_ exhausting?

Kudos to Feliciano, then. And other normal people as well.

After lying on the couch for a few minutes, he decided to move to his bedroom. He sat on the bed and an aggravated sigh escaped his lips.

He reached for the Kicking The Bucket List atop his bedside table and pulled it open, examining each and every item. Most of the items consisted of travelling, seeing the world before he left it of his own accord.

It was pretty ironic, to say the least. That's what made it— in a sick, twisted sense of humour— funny.

* * *

><p>"…And then he just started chasing me! I didn't know what to do, so I ran away," Antonio expressively recalled what had happened during lunch, along with boisterous hand gestures and exaggerated pitches in his voice.<p>

Francis shook his head in disapproval whilst Gilbert, on the other hand, shook with mirth.

"_Mon ami_, I never thought you would give up so easily," the blond chastised, waggling his finger before the brunette.

The latter let out an easy laugh, shaking his head. "No, of course not! I'm not giving up on Feliciano just yet, Franny. Ahaha~ You should know me better than that!"

Gilbert gave his friend a good ol' pat on the back. "Good luck with that, _mein Freund_! Even Francis and I have tried dating Feli, but, _Gott_, that annoying brother of his always gets in the way! Like, what's his deal? It's _so _not awesome."

Antonio nodded his head in understanding, "Granted, it's gonna be hard with Lovino in the way, but if there's one thing I know, it's that Feliciano is worth it~!"

The three raised their drinks up; tequila for Toni, beer for Gil, and red wine for Francis, and clinked their glasses together in unison.

"Cheers!"

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, Feliciano was sitting with his friends in the diner near the campus. He'd ordered a strawberry milkshake and a serving of fries, and was now chatting contentedly with his friends while waiting for his order.<p>

The door opened with the sound of the bell above it ringing, and in walked one of Feliciano's best friends from high school— Kiku Honda.

He knew Kiku would be taking engineering, but he hadn't seen Kiku in EHU all day! So he momentarily assumed that Kiku had moved to another college at the last minute. In fact, Feliciano was intent on interrogating him about it via Facebook the moment he got home~! This was wonderful!

"Ve~ Kiku! Over here!"

Kiku's dark brown eyes widened in recognition of the voice and immediately turned to face the speaker. Behind the Japanese teen was an awkward yet stern looking blond with his hair slicked back. When he, too, turned to face the source of the noise, Feliciano found himself staring at the bluest eyes he had ever seen.

His heart skipped a beat.

He stood up to greet them, his smile widening a bit more.

* * *

><p>"Say, <em>amigo<em>, where's Ludwig? You _did _say he was going to enrol here, right?" Antonio queried, nudging Gilbert's shoulder.

The albino didn't tear his carmine eyes off of the TV overhead the bar, but he didn't skip a beat when he answered. "_Ja_, he is. His flight from military school was delayed early this morning, so he got here around lunchtime. I'll see him when I get home though."

"Ah, I see. I haven't seen him in ages! I wonder how big he's gotten. What course is he taking in EHU?"

"Kesese~ _mein Bruder__'__s _taking engineering. I'm proud of him."

* * *

><p>"Ve~ <em>Ciao<em>! My name is Feliciano! What's yours?" Feliciano asked the tall and robust blond, who pretty much towered over everyone else in the diner.

Clear blue eyes darted around the room momentarily before locking with the Italian's honey brown gaze. The blond curtly stuck his hand out. "_Hallo_, my name is Ludwig Beilschmidt. I am pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Is it okay if I call you Luddy? You can call me Feli if you want~!"

Ludwig took a step back, at a loss for what to say. Not even ten seconds of meeting this person, Feliciano already had a nickname for him!

The two stared at each other for a good full minute before Ludwig finally cleared his throat. "I… I guess you can—"

"Yay!" Feliciano tackled the blond in a hug, leaving the latter rigid in temporary paralysis. "Hi, Luddy~!"

_M-Mein__… __Mein Gott. What have I done?_

* * *

><p>Hours later, Lovino had awoken from his nap. It was dark now, but there was no source of light coming from the hallway, so Feliciano wasn't home yet.<p>

The brunette got up, scratching his back and yawning. He then shuffled into his bathroom to take a shower. When he'd finished and gotten dressed, he decided to derp around on the Internet and kill some time before he made himself a ciabatta sandwich for dinner.

That was his first mistake.

As bored as he was, he, of his own accord, went onto YouTube.

That was his second mistake.

Scrolling through his suggested videos, he came across one that got his attention.** 'Shrek Is Love, Shrek Is Life. (Original)'**. The video had millions of hits, so he decided, _why the fuck not, right?_

He clicked on it.

That was his third mistake.

**'_I was only nine years old. I loved Shrek so much. I had all the merchandise and movies.__'_**

_Wait, what?_

**'_I prayed to Shrek every night, thanking him for the life I__'__ve been given. __"__Shrek is love,__" __I say, __"__Shrek is life.__'_**

_What the fuck is this?_

**'_My dad hears me and calls me a faggot.__'_**

Lovino suddenly burst out laughing. He stared at the screen, watching intently for what was to happen next.

That was when it all went downhill.

A traumatised "Oh my God…" escaped his lips as he sat before the Macbook, rigid in horror.

He wanted to close the tab, to close the fucking window, but it was so fucking _disturbing_, he just— he just couldn't pull away. He was frozen in his spot from what he saw.

And ultimately, he had inadvertently watched it right to the very end.

He sat there in silence, barely breathing, barely moving an inch for a full minute, before something snapped inside of him. _That__'__s enough internet for today, d-dammit__…_

Feeling frantic, he hastily ran his fingers over his trackpad and scrolled the pointer up to the red exit button. He then scrolled the pointer to the upper left corner and over the Apple on the menu bar.

He selected _Shut Down…_ and the screen immediately went black.

Lovino hastily got up from his seat and bolted to his bed, quickly ducking under the duvet. He curled up into a foetal position, trying to push all thoughts discerning Shrek and that deranged, creepy fucker out of his head.

_Dio mio_, he _knew _he was gay, but to see it so—_narrated _so… _I don__'__t even know anymore. What the fuck did I just fucking watch?!_

The Italian was a hundred percent done with life.

So he skipped dinner and opted to go straight to sleep.

_Oh, God, the _horror_._

* * *

><p><strong>Translations:<strong>

_fratello _- brother (It.)  
><em>Dio mio <em>- oh my God (It.)  
><em>hola <em>- hello (Esp.)  
><em>si <em>- yes (Esp.)  
><em>mierda <em>- shit (Esp.)  
><em>mio fratello <em>- my brother (It.)  
><em>fratellino <em>- younger brother (It.)  
><em>mon ami <em>- my friend (Fr.)  
><em>mein Freund <em>- my friend (Dt.)  
><em>Gott <em>- God (Dt.)  
><em>amigo <em>- friend (Esp.)  
><em>ja <em>- yes (Dt.)  
><em>mein Bruder <em>- my brother (Dt.)  
><em>ciao <em>- hello (It.)  
><em>hallo <em>- hello (Dt.)  
><em>mein Gott <em>- oh my God (Dt.)

**Love is in the air~ but at the same time, it's not. Because it's not for each other. Tell me how you think the Spamano in this story will happen! Obvs, I already know, but yeah. I'd love to hear more from you guys. Thanks so much for all the feedback, favourites and follows. Constructive criticism is welcome~**

**~jellydonut16~**


	4. four

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

**_Kicking the Bucket List_**

**four**

**"_I__'__m a mess, that__'__s the best way to describe it.  
><em>****_Having no time to myself__'__s the only way I can fight it.  
><em>****_When I__'__m alone, it__'__s like I__'__m staring into a mirror.  
><em>****_Don__'__t know the person inside, and that__'__s never been any clearer._"  
><strong>**— _You Be Tails, I__'__ll Be Sonic _by A Day To Remember**

The next day was the general assembly for Performing Arts students. Evergreen Hollows University had many departments, under which were many more courses under those respective departments' care.

Whilst Feliciano belonged to the Art Department, Lovino belonged to the one of the Theatre of Performing Arts. There was a General Education Department, as well as as one for Technical Engineering and EHU's world-class Business School, amongst many, many more departments in the campus.

The older Vargas brother had woken up considerably early in the morning to get ready— the general assembly itself was earlier than his first class. The good thing is that he'd be having Intro to Creative Writing today. Finally, there'd be something more… structured to write about.

Lovino liked structured, truth be told. He knew what to expect, so he knew what to do. Not having control over the situation he was in gave him the distinct feeling of frustration, anger and confusion that kinda made him want to throw himself in front of a bus.

…Yeah.

_That _bad.

Yet at the same time, he hated that he was a creature of routine, bound to the same schedule that likely would never change. It was another reason to why he had the Bucket List.

Goddammit, he wanted _change_. He didn't want to be bound like this anymore, fuck, he wanted _freedom_.

But he was scared of what he wasn't used to.

It was fucking paradoxical and he hated it.

The brunette took a quick shower and got changed into a black button down and dark wash jeans, slipping his feet into his well-worn black Vans. As he exited the bedroom, he noticed the smell of cooking wafting from the direction of the kitchen area.

Feliciano was busying himself in the kitchen, stirring something in a small pot with a wooden spoon. Immediately, he picked up the presence of his older brother and turned to face him, beaming. "_Buon giorno_, _fratello_! I made pancakes~!"

He motioned to two plates set on the white marble island counters. There were two stacks of pancakes on it, each stacked to perfection.

"Why the hell are you up so early?" Lovino mumbled, automatically heading over to the cupboards to grab a bottle of maple syrup.

The younger of the two let out an enigmatic giggle, "I don't know, _fratello_. I just feel so very happy today! I feel like I'm on top of the world~!"

Lovi rolled his eyes, "Shut up, Feliciano. Or at least tone it the fuck down, it's too early to be on top of the world."

Feliciano laughed, pulling away from the pot to wrap his arms around Lovino's waist. "Aww~ Don't be so grumpy, Lovi! It's too early to be angry~!"

"What the fuck are you on, dammit?" Lovino growled out, prying Feliciano's arms off of his waist as his face flushed in frustration. "Why are you so _happy_ today?"

"Ve~ I think it's time for some hug therapy~!" Feli sang out as Lovino whirled around to face the pot. He took one glance at it and lowered the heat.

"What the fuck, Feliciano, you put the heat up too high, dammit. The compote's gonna stick to the bottom of the pot and it's gonna be a fucking bitch to wash off," he then added as an afterthought, "And screw your hug therapy, _idiota_. What kind of compote is this?"

"Ve~ It's a blueberry and strawberry compote~"

"Why couldn't you have gotten a bottle of jam, like what _normal _people do?" The older twin complained, grabbing the spoon and stirring the mixed berry compote around.

"Because I know you prefer this to jam, even if it takes a bit more time to make."

Hazel eyes narrowed in suspicion met honey brown ones. "Why are you doing this?"

Feliciano pouted. "Ve~ Why not?"

Lovino rolled his eyes as he switched the stove off, "Cheh, because you normally don't?"

"I don't what, _fratello_?" Feliciano queried, automatically moving out of the way as Lovino turned around to face the island counter and poured the compote into two equal parts on top of each pancake stack to Instagram-worthy perfection.

"Do things for me. Tch, you _have _to have some incentive or something, dammit. So just tell me what the fuck it is!"

Almost immediately, he pulled the plate towards himself and began to demolish the stack, bit by bit.

The younger of the two sat at on one of the barstools, opposite his brother. "Can't I just do something nice for you?"

Lovino glanced up momentarily. "You could, but you usually don't. But whatever. Fuck it."

Feliciano hesitantly reached for his fork and butter knife, "Ve~ Why are you in such a hurry, _fratello_?" Almost immediately, his eyes brightened as he beamed excitedly at his older brother. "Ooh~ Are you meeting up with someone? Meeting up with _friends_?!"

Feli's interest (obsession) with Lovino's social life— or lack, thereof— was kind of sad and pitiful sometimes. At least, that was what the older twin told himself.

Lovino rolled his eyes, "_No_, I am not meeting up with friends. I have a general assembly to go to." He momentarily pulled away to take a quick glance at his watch. "Fuck. I have to go."

With that, he finished the rest of his pancakes and strode over to the other side of the apartment in order to retrieve his backpack where he'd left it.

"Ve~ I'll see you during lunch, Lovi! I'll text you!" Feliciano called out, waving his _fratello _goodbye.

"Yeah, yeah," the other mumbled, rolling his eyes. "I'll see you later."

* * *

><p>Evergreen Hollows University's Theatre of Performing Arts was an iconic theatre in the state. It was both an artistically freeing and an architectural beacon of light in the city, which drew crowds upon crowds of avid musical and opera lovers, many wishing to experience the breathtaking performances for which the department was known for.<p>

Lovino felt his heart race against his chest in anticipation. A flurry of people, of faces he's never seen before, surrounded him as his palms began to sweat in anxiousness.

This was to be his sanctuary; his solace.

These people… he would be working with them one day, dammit, whether he liked it or not!

He could already feel his inner muse pulsating from within his being, adrenaline rushing through his veins.

Merely the structure itself was astonishing. It was so _surreal_.

This… _This _was and is the place from which he would draw inspiration, the motivation to move others with his written words. To make them feel a plethora of emotions unlike any other.

He gulped, taking another glance up at the tall building.

It was sleek and modern; pillars of iron bars held up the foundations of the building as the walls were paned with glass. _Dio_, it must really look stunning at night.

Carefully, oh-so carefully, he made his way up the grey slate steps leading to the grand double doors, both thrown open in an inviting manner. He stepped inside, glancing up at the scene before him. Grand white marble, high arches and onyx black trimmings boasted and exuded power and elegance over the mere mortals that entered.

This is where plays, books, and _dreams_ come to life. This is where they become sempiternal.

There were many people already present, now in the midst of shuffling in the theatre itself. It lifted Lovino's spirits up a bit just by being surrounded by all of these people who share the same passion for theatrics.

Lovino had made his way down the descending path to the front of the theatre, taking a seat somewhere near the stage. There were many bustling about, trying to get things in order at the last minute.

He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back into his seat. It took ten minutes or so before the orientation began.

The Dean of the Performing Arts department came up on stage and gave them words of encouragement, welcoming the new students. One by one, the seniors who were in charge of handling the ropes of majority of the department's plays came up on stage and introduced themselves. Lovino honestly couldn't find it in himself to give a shit, senior or not. He busied himself by picking at his nails, but then—

"'Ello? Good mornin', everyone,"

—his heart skipped a beat and his head snapped up at breakneck speed. Hazel eyes locked with forest green ones, once again. He sat up straighter on his seat, feeling his face flush a deep crimson. He covered the lower half of his face with one hand as he tried to suppress his blushing.

_He _was there, right before him.

Right before Lovino.

"Okay! Righ'. M' name's Allistor Kirkland, but yeh can call me Allistor. Ah'm a senior an' Ah'm takin' up Performin' Arts as a play director, though Ah've already dabbled wif a bi' of actin' of my own." Allistor began, the lights focused on him. Lovino nearly melted in his seat, _Dio mio_, he was so _close_ to him, but _not close enough_. The redhead was wearing a crisp, white linen button down and light wash jeans. He looked like perfection personified.

"Since yeh're all takin' courses under Performin' Arts, yeh'll be assistin' me for some of th' plays for th' rest of th' school year. Take i' as some kind of… _practice _for when we pass on th' ropes to yeh an' let yeh run majority o' th' plays next school year. It's very nice ta meet yeh all, an' Ah hope we can be friends." With that, he gave an awkward smile and wave at the crowd before setting the mic back down onto the stand. He jogged down the front steps and passed by Lovino, the intoxicating scent of the redhead suddenly saturating the air around him. His head spun.

For a second, their eyes locked. The Italian found it hard to breathe.

He waited for a flicker of recognition to sweep through those forest green eyes, but there was none. His heart suddenly sank to the bottom of his chest.

_He didn__'__t remember me, _he thought to himself, trying to steady his breaths. Another speaker had gone up on stage, but he wasn't paying attention to her. _Of course he doesn__'__t remember me, dammit. I__'__m nothing but another passing face._

He hated this. He hated how someone he barely knew could have such an effect on him, on his mind and body.

* * *

><p>After the orientation, he had lingered around awkwardly, inconspicuously (he hoped) trying to catch another glimpse of Allistor again. Just <em>once<em>, _Dio mio_, only once.

_Then, _Lovino told himself. _I__'__ll leave._

Several more minutes or so of searching through the crowd, the Italian saw him again. Before he could even stop himself, he began to walk slowly, oh-so slowly to the redhead, who was animatedly talking to someone.

But then Lovino stopped.

He was practically in front of Allistor now, trying to catch his attention. Trying to catch his eye.

Once again, the Italian went unnoticed. His heart sank just a bit more.

He whispered under his breath, "I'm right in front of you, but your eyes don't see me."

He did naught but stand there in silence. Then he shook his head and walked away. _As I should__'__ve done so in the first place, _he reasoned with himself. All he wanted at first was just another glance, and he got that. But then he wanted more. He should've fucking left, d-dammit…

_Because if there__'__s _one _thing I__'__ve learnt all these years of just being me, it__'__s that I only want what I can__'__t have._

It was a bad habit of his, he glumly admitted to himself.

He glanced down at his feet, his face red hot with embarrassment and frustration. Why the fuck did he have to feel this way? Why the fuck did he have to feel at _all_, like _fuck emotions_. Fuck _having _emotions, dammit—

Abruptly, someone bumped into him, breaking his train of thought.

"Lovi, oh my gosh, is that _you_?"

Lovino turned around to face the speaker, an easygoing smile on his face. "_Buon giorno_, Bella."

The bubbly Belgian blond wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. "It's _so _nice to see you again! I never pegged you the type to take up acting, Lovi,"

He chuckled, awkwardly returning the embrace. "And you were right. I'm not. Actually, I'm taking Creative Writing under Performing Arts, so…"

She pulled away, patting his shoulder. "Oh, okay. We have several more schoolmates in this department, you know?"

He rolled his eyes, "Figures. It was bound to happen. Whose faces will I still have to see around here?"

She furrowed her brows before she started counting them off of one hand. "Well! There's Feliks, there's, well, of course, _me_, there's Elizaveta, there's Michelle— she was the transfer student we got last year, from Seychelles,"

"Oh yeah, I remember her."

"And…" she beamed at him sheepishly.

He raised an eyebrow at her, digging his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "And?"

"…And Francis Bonnefoy may or may not be taking up acting here—"

"What?! That sleazy fuckface is studying _here_?!" Lovino exclaimed, catching the attention (and glares) of some of the people that surrounded them.

Bella shushed him, motioning downwards with her hands. "Lovi, keep it down!" She giggled. "Unfortunately, yes, he is."

Lovino groaned in protest.

* * *

><p>By the time Lovino had pulled away from the ever-loquacious blond, he had ten minutes before his first class started. It was Introduction to Creative Writing, which would carry on from 9 AM to 12 PM.<p>

In his last-minute desperation, he found himself running clear across campus, often bumping into numerous passersby in his haste.

Just as the class was about to begin, he found himself skidding to a halt before his designated classroom. Inadvertently, he'd slammed the door open so hard, it bounced off the wall and nearly closed on him.

Lovino's face flushed in embarrassment and shame. _Shit._

Before him were his future block mates, all silently seated and staring at him expectantly.

The professor was poised before the whiteboard, a Pilot marker in her hand positioned inches before the board's surface.

"Shit." He hissed under his breath.

The professor gave him an amiable smile and pointed towards the seats. "Take a seat. You came right on time."

He gave a terse nod before stomping in the classroom and taking a seat in the back of the class in a row no one else occupied.

She then turned to face the class, "Once again~! Good morning, everyone. Welcome to the Introduction to Creative Writing." As she did this, she moved a fraction to scribble her name on the board. "My name is Professor Jacqueline Sharp. Of course, I will help guide you through your journey as a writer. I will be your mentor in regards to the creative process of writing literature. If you cannot handle constructive criticism, I fear that this is _not _the class for you."

A tense silence filled the room.

Upon receiving no negative reactions, Professor Sharp set the marker down on her desk and folded her arms over her chest. "Right. Albeit the fact that I will be the one to guide you all, do not expect me to make you the next Fitzgerald or Shakespeare." She determinedly pointed at the students before her. "You will have to do that for yourselves. In this class, you will learn how to determine your strengths and weaknesses as a writer. You will all grow as writers as you discover your forte. And if you believe that you have already discovered your forte, I will help you hone it."

She clapped her hands together. "Alright! Everyone, grab a piece of paper. Write a quick introduction about yourself. I'll allot you fifteen minutes. I'm sure that'll be enough."

Almost immediately, the sound of paper rustling around could be heard throughout the room. Lovino, who had just finished catching his breath, pulled his notepad out.

He brought his pen up to the paper and furrowed his brows.

_How the fuck do I start?_

He was at a loss for what to write.

Dammit. First class in for his future major, and he already had writer's block. How the fuck would he be able to make it in the coming years?!

_Fuck my life._

He tapped the end of his pen on the notepad. On a metronome, the tempo of the tapping would have been 260 beats per minute. But he wasn't a musician. He was a writer. He was supposed to write.

He's supposed to be writing, _right fucking now_.

But what the fuck is he even doing again?

Oh, yeah. _Not writing_.

An aggravated sigh escapes his lips.

"You okay there?" A voice asks, bringing him out of his thoughts. He gasps in surprise, seeing his professor right beside him. He glances up at her. She's in her late 20's or early 30's, give or take. She has long brown hair tied into a neat ponytail and she has grey eyes. Grey eyes that are looking at him quizzically at the moment.

"Yeah, yeah," he answers automatically. Then he notices his anxious pen-tapping and he stops. "I'm perfectly fine."

Her eyes soften. "You shouldn't stress too much about it. It's just an introductory essay. Half an essay, even. Easy-peasy."

He gulps, hazel eyes glancing back down at his empty page. There are ugly marks on the paper the end of his pen had made from all that tapping. "I know."

_But that__'__s the thing, _he thinks. _I don__'__t know what to say._

That's when he began to panic. As far as he knew, writing has been the only thing he has ever been good at. What if, after all this time, his only talent was apparently a hoax?

What if he was wrong about his talents?

What if he wasn't a good writer after all?

Wh-What if—

"Hey, you okay? You look like you're about to go into cardiac arrest." Professor Sharp had bluntly stated, though there was a trace of humour intended in her words.

He tersely nodded.

She looked at him warily for a second or two more. "Alrighty then. Just come see me if you have any questions, okay?"

Another nod.

With that, she finally walked away and minded another side of the room.

Eventually, Lovino could breathe again. But it didn't make him feel any better.

At a loss for what to write, he decided to go with the standard introductory essay everyone and their mother have written at least _once _in their lives before.

Yet at the same time, he didn't want that.

He wanted to write something that'd showcase his proficiency in writing, d-dammit…

He absolutely hated that he was being indecisive as fuck.

Lovino couldn't make up his mind. It's _just _a fucking _introductory essay_, dammit, get a fucking hold of yourself!

He ran a hand through his hair, nails raking against his scalp. _Why do I feel like this?_

The Italian took a quick glance around the room. Everyone else were either occupied with their essay or getting to know each other. The room suddenly felt much smaller and he felt so alone.

It was a room full of people, and yet, he knew no one. He would befriend no one. He knew he wouldn't.

And even before college started, he was aware of it. He accepted it entirely. Yet why did it make him feel so terrible right now?

He didn't know what to write, _Dio mio_. How many minutes had passed? His eyes flickered up to the clock above the whiteboard. He just wasted five minutes. Fuck.

Temporarily shaking off all his indecisive thoughts out of his head, he immediately wrote the typical 'This Is Me' essay.

Basic stuff. Shit nobody really cares about. Outside details, because _Dio _knows no one would ever want to know what goes on inside his head.

He finished it within ten minutes.

* * *

><p>Since it was the first class for that subject, everyone had an early out. They, however, had homework to bring with them already.<p>

"_Go somewhere,__" _Professor Sharp had said, _"__Go anywhere and just write. Write about what is surrounding you, be it the people or the place itself.__"_

"_That__'__s it?__" _Most of the people in class had asked, incredulous.

There was a gleam in her eyes as she affirmed it.

After class had ended, Lovino shuffled towards the general direction of the comfort rooms. The place stank like shit, but it was empty and it was quiet. Exactly what Lovino needed at the moment. He cupped his hands under the icy cold sink water before bringing it to his face.

_Dio mio_, the water wasn't just _cold_. It was _fucking arctic_.

He shivered, becoming more awake. He placed his unusually pallid hands on the rim of the sink, slowly staring up at his reflection. And, truth be told, he was startled by what he saw. When the fuck was the last time he took a long glance at himself in the mirror?

What the hell, were those actually _eyebags_? Did he really look that tired?

Physical faults aside, he had this train of thought nagging him in the inside.

Truth be told, he knew why he was so startled in the first place. It had come as a realisation to why he had such a difficult time writing that goddamn essay in the first place.

It's because when he looked in the mirror, albeit the fact that, _yes_, he saw himself, _duh_… he didn't know who he was inside anymore. Mirrors are not supposed to help you see who you are inside, but your eyes are. Because eyes are like windows to the soul, or some shit, right?

'_When you look in the mirror, what do you see?__'_

_I see someone with brown hair. He has a really annoyingly bouncy hair curl that annoys him to no end. He__'__s got hazel eyes, and an ever-present scowl on his face. He looks constipated or like he ate something past its expiry date. Even though his skin is usually lightly tanned, he looks pale and sickly as fuck right now. This fucker seriously needs some goddamn sunlight so he could tan like a golden Italian sex god. Yeah. Or a tanning bed. Actually, fuck tanning beds. That shit__'__s cancerous. But whatever._

_This is Lovino Vargas._

'_Who is Lovino Vargas?__'_

Ah… this was what stumped him in the first place.

_Lovino Vargas__… __is the brother of Feliciano Vargas. Lovino is taking a course in Creative Writing under the Department of Performing Arts in Evergreen Hollows University. He is a freshman. He comes from Italy. He loves tomatoes and Italian cuisine. He wants to become a famous writer someday._

…Stop. Rewrite.

_Lovino Vargas, brother of Feliciano Vargas, is a freshman taking a course in Creative Writing under the Department of Performing Arts in Evergreen Hollows University. He is an Italian who loves tomatoes and Italian cuisine, and he wants to become a famous writer someday._

Outside details. Details that were already so obvious.

It was all so shallow, so very shallow.

There was no depth to his self-perception.

Lovino hated it. _Abhorred _it, even.

He didn't know what else to say because he didn't know who he was inside anymore.

**Lovino Vargas is nobody_. _**He'd scribbled down on his notepad earlier, taking one long look at it before erasing its existence with correction tape.

If only correcting past mistakes and shortcomings were that easy, _si_?

* * *

><p><strong>Translations:<strong>

_buon giorno _- good morning (It.)  
><em>fratello <em>- brother (It.)  
><em>idiota <em>- idiot (It.)  
><em>Dio <em>- God (It.)  
><em>Dio mio <em>- oh my God (It.)  
><em>si <em>- yes (It.)

**Sorry for the delayed update! I got kinda really busy with school stuff, so I had to set this to the side. Theses SUCK. I'm quite aware that this chapter doesn't really possess the humour of the previous chapters, but this, for once, channelled the angstier side of the story. Plus, it kinda introduced new people. Finally, the redhead has a name!**

**Just a WARNING: this story will have a long-running plot, as it spans over the course of 3-4 years, and will have 3 Major Arcs: the Scotmano arc, the Spamano arc, and bulk of the Bucket List arc. So as much as I want to go straight to the Spamano arc, more often than not, you can't rush love. I hope you guys will stick around for this story though!**

**Thanks so much for all of the follows, favourites and reviews~! I'll get back to you all… someday. When I'm not as busy OTL /slapped**

**I'd really love it if you all reviewed~! I appreciate your feedback. Constructive criticism is welcome~**

**~jellydonut16~**


	5. five

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_**Kicking the Bucket List**_

**five**

"_**Punk bitch walking tall like you**__**'**__**ve got something to prove.  
><strong>__**Nah man, **__**'**__**cause deep down you know it sucks to be you.**_**"  
><strong>— _**Stingray Affliction **_**by ISSUES**

_Bzzzt! Bzzzt! Bzzzt! Bzzz__—_

"_Pronto_," Lovino grit out, voice croaky and laced with sleep.

"_Ve~ _Fratello_, where are you? You haven__'__t been answering my texts!__" _Feliciano asked, worry evident in his tone.

The older Vargas brother groaned, shifting around on his bed. "I'm back at home, _idiota_. I was taking a nap."

"…_Oh. Have you eaten yet, Lovi? I__'__m at the diner right now.__"_

There was a brief silence as Lovino tried to collect his thoughts. Finally, he responded, "Yeah, and?"

He heard Feliciano sigh through the line, _"__Do you want to have lunch with me, _fratello_?__"_

More silence. Lovino slowly sat up. "No. I'm good. I'll just make myself something at home."

He could practically hear Feliciano pouting. Dammit.

"_Ve~ But Lovi~__"_

An aggravated sigh escaped the older twin's lips. "What, dammit?"

"_Trust me~! It__'__ll be fun to hang out with other people! My friends aren__'__t as terrible as you think they are__…"_

"For fuck's sake, Feli—"

"_Ve~ Please, _fratello_? Pretty please with cherries and pasta on top?__"_

Lovino's face scrunched up in disgust. "The fuck? 'Cherries and pasta'?"

"Si_~!__"_

"That's disgusting, Feliciano."

"_Stop changing the subject, Lovi~ Please come? Pwease, ve~__"_

A frustrated, strangled noise escaped the older Italian's lips. "_Fine_! I'll be there in a few, dammit—"

"_Yay~! I__'__m so happy! You won__'__t regret it, Lovi, I__'__ll see you soon~! Bye~__"_

_Click._

Almost immediately, Lovino flopped back down onto the bed. He stared up at the ceiling in regret.

_What the fuck have I done?_

* * *

><p>Feliciano slipped his phone into his pocket, smiling to himself.<p>

"Was that your brother, Feliciano-kun?" Kiku asked from the seat beside him. There were so many in their group, they had to combine two tables together. The latter beamed.

"Ve~ It is~! I sure hope he'll come after all."

"I haven't seen Lovino-san all summer. How has he been?"

The Italian pouted, "Hmm… I've been kind of really worried for Lovi lately. He just seems so lonely nowadays."

Kiku nodded at this. "I see what you mean. But perhaps it has only been now that you've noticed."

"Ve~ Noticed what?"

"Er… Lovino-san's loneliness."

Before Feliciano could even think twice about it, the bell above the entrance to the diner chimed, signalling the entrance of new customers. In walked the Bad Touch Trio, who took the four-seater booth near him. Antonio called out to him. "Hey! Feli!"

Feliciano turned to face the Spaniard, beaming back. The confrontation with _fratello _and Antonio yesterday made him feel somewhat sheepish, yet the brunette didn't seem very fazed about getting chased by Lovi. "Hi, Toni!"

Why did he have the distinct feeling that Antonio was going to be more persistent than the others?

* * *

><p>Lovino glanced at his reflection in the full-length mirror by the hallway, hazel eyes censorious. He daren't look up close lest he have another fucking epiphany. Fuck epiphanies. They weren't even the good kind, the ones that changed your entire life for the better.<p>

It was only a fucking realisation of how fucking _pathetic_ his life actually is.

And that, in itself, was something Lovino was already fully aware of— and he has been, for a while now.

A sigh escaped his lips. Did he really have to go? To the diner? What the hell would he even eat there?

He knew he'd have to make his presence known there, because Feliciano would _definitely _hound him nonstop the moment they were both at home. Why the fuck did Feliciano have to go to the diner anyway? The diner was farther away from campus than their apartment was. So that's… pretty fucking stupid.

W-Well, not unless you were too lazy to cook or anything, d-dammit…

A sigh escaped his lips as he returned to his bedroom to retrieve his backpack. As he did so, his eyes fell on the Bucket List and he wondered when the hell he'd finally get started on the damn thing. Some people were lucky. They had opportunities presented to them at every corner and every turn, and their futures were boundless— limitless. Everyday, they could wake up with a smile on their face and conquer the challenges life presented them. These people are strong. Confident. Motivated. Inspirational.

Like Feliciano.

Everywhere he goes, it's like a path of gayness and rainbows follow his feathery-light and dainty footsteps as he frolics yonder over valleys and valleys of… of fucking carnations and daisies or something like that. Metaphorically, whereas Feliciano was a unicorn-slash-pegasus lovechild with a long shiny mane that put the colour spectrum to shame— the type of magical horse that shit rainbows and puked Skittles— Lovino was a fucking potato-brown Shetland pony. _Dio_, he absolutely _abhorred _the fuck out of potatoes, so in a way, it was like saying he hated himself.

It was and is a cruel comparison, but somewhat true nonetheless.

People like _him_— like Lovino… They were the kinds of people that woke up in the morning and wondered why they were even alive in the first place. Why they even bothered to continue living when everything has become so cruelly routine— it wasn't even a nice type of routine in the first place, d-dammit…

It was boring and monotonous as fuck, and he hated the fact that he wasn't good enough to have a future as bright as Feliciano's as well.

Was he _jealous_ of his younger brother?

Oh, yes. God, yes. Who wouldn't be?

But he would never admit that to anyone else.

A-Anyways, Feliciano still needed him, so Lovino just needed to bullshit through life for just a little bit longer. Bullshit indeed.

Lovino broke away from his quasi-depressing thoughts and grabbed his notebook, stuffing it inside his backpack. He hated how he had huge vacant periods, but his schedule was restrictive enough to ensure he couldn't do much either, like go to the mall or something.

Then again, he had neither want nor incentive to go to their town's shitty mall anyway, so fuck that.

He had class later at three PM 'til five PM. General Sociology.

The brunette took a glance at his watch. He had quite a while before his class started, so he'd decided to make up for his shortcomings earlier in the Introduction to Creative Writing and work on his homework somewhere after having lunch with Feliciano.

With that, he finally walked out of the apartment, locking the door behind him.

* * *

><p>"Say, Feli, would you like to go on a date with me sometime?" Antonio asks, wedging a seat between Feliciano and Ludwig, his emerald eyes sparkling with determination.<p>

"It might upset _mio fratello_ Lovi, though," Feliciano says, pouting at him. He didn't want to lose Toni as a friend by outright rejecting him, but he didn't want to make Lovino angry either— especially when he's been so stressed lately!

_Ve~ Who am I kidding? It _will _upset Lovi either way. _Dio mi salvi_._

He inwardly sighed. _Fratello _was right. He _was _incapable of saying 'no'. If only he could call on the power of _fratello__'__s Virginity Guardian Armour _and don the metaphorical armour himself.

Antonio drew back, pouting as well. "Oh, yeah. Lovino. He's your older brother, _si_?"

Feliciano laughed airily. "_Si_, he is~!"

"…Are you sure you two are related?" the Spaniard asks, his expression grave and serious.

The smaller brunette nodded. "Yep, we sure are~!"

Toni's eyes widened in disbelief. "Really? When Gil and Franny told me stuff about him, I couldn't believe it either~!"

"Lovi isn't very fond of big brother Francis and Gil, so…"

Antonio chuckled at that. "You call him 'Lovi', huh? That's cute~"

"Ve~ _Grazie_!"

"You know what'd be even cuter?" Toni asks, turning the charm up a notch. He leant in a fraction, smiling charmingly at Feliciano. "If you went out on a date with me."

The bell chimed, as if on cue, and in walked _fratello_.

"Do you like pasta? If you want, I can make pasta for you and we can have a picnic at the park—"

_Smack!_

Lovino drew his hand back, shaking it after he'd smacked Antonio on the back of the head. _Dio_, his hand stings like a motherfucker right now. "Eugh. What the fuck do you think you're doing, _bastardo_?"

"Hey, there's no need to be such a dick, Lovino." Gilbert drawled, crimson eyes gleaming in irritation as they narrowed at the older Italian who had come to rain on their parade.

"Not when _this _asshole is trying to hit on _mio fratello_." Lovino bit back, sneering.

"Hey, why do you have to be so mean?" Toni's voice piped up, a hint of annoyance in his tone.

"Shut the fuck up," Lovino answered almost automatically, crossing his arms over his chest.

Gilbert leant forward, "Just because _you _don't have a life doesn't mean you have the right to ruin Feliciano's. What the fuck is your problem anyway?"

Lovino looked at the Bad Touch Trio sourly. "Unfortunately, my problem is you."

"Come, now, Lovino. Who are you to talk?" It was Francis who spoke this time, peering up at the Italian from venti cup of Starbucks he'd brought in with him. "Antoine here did nothing to you, and still, you have the audacity to insult someone you don't even know."

Feliciano watched in silent horror as Lovino put on a façade of collectedness, smirking at the Frenchman. "Well, aren't we all hypocrites here?"

"Why don't you just do us all a favour?" Gilbert asks, standing up to his full height. "Fuck off. No one wants you here."

Immediately, the smirk melted away into Lovino's oft-worn scowl. Feliciano wanted to stand up, to stop them, but he found himself rooted to his seat, unable to blink; unable to move.

Big brother Toni had stood up, trying to break up the fight.

The entire diner had gone silent now, with all the patrons spectating what was to come attentively.

Instead of breaking up the fight, Antonio was inadvertently dragged into it. He was trying to get Gilbert to stop, trying to explain his intentions to Lovino, but all of it fell on deaf ears. Lovino reached up to grab the collar of Antonio's shirt, only to have Ludwig stand up and intervene.

"Who the fuck are _you_?" Feliciano vaguely hears Lovino demand of the blond. His voice is muffled, like Feliciano is underwater. The owner of the diner is here now, trying to keep hell from breaking loose in his restaurant.

_Why can__'__t I move?_

He flinches as Lovino shoves Antonio back and says something to the owner before storming out of the diner. All falls silent before Feliciano finally stands up, his chair toppling over in haste.

Lovi.

He needs to find Lovi.

He barely spares the Bad Touch Trio a betrayed glance before hurrying out of the diner and looking both ways of the street. Barely ten seconds have passed since the older Vargas had left the diner, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Before Feli's mind even registers it, he's running down one path which leads to the intersection. Lovino isn't anywhere in sight. In his state of panic, tears have run down his cheeks, leaving him gasping for air.

Feliciano flinches as someone wraps their arm around him.

"Feli," it was Toni who spoke, whose voice did nothing to calm his frazzled nerves. "Are you okay?"

Toni leans in and wipes the tears away, trying to shush him. Feliciano glances to the side and he sees Gilbert and big brother Francis making their way over.

"_M-Mio fratello_, I need to find _mio fratello_," Feli gasps out, trying to move Toni's hands out of the way. He storms over to Gilbert and meets him halfway with a glare. "How could you do that to him?!"

The albino was stunned at the outburst. Just as he was about to respond, the Italian cut him off. "Do you know how hard it is just getting him to talk to other people?! _Dio_, Gilbert, I wanted him to make friends! He's a-always been alone, but I didn't want him to be so lonely anymore—"

Feliciano chokes on his sobs. Kiku and Ludwig have followed. The sobbing Italian makes his way to the two of them and wraps his arms around Ludwig's torso, weeping into his chest. The younger Beilschmidt is taken aback, at a loss for what to do, until Kiku starts patting Feliciano's back in a soothing manner.

* * *

><p><em>Ding!<em>

In his haste, Lovino had ducked in one of the stores, just wanting to get away from everybody. Everything. He had a hunch that Feliciano would try and follow him, so he decided to give his _fratello _the slip. He didn't mean anything by it, but he just— he just wanted to be alone right now.

His mind barely registers the customers quizzically glancing at him, or the slightly skeptical store owner, let alone what type of store it actually was. His head is spinning.

Lovino shakes his head and glances up at the people in the store. Automatically, they glance down, feigning ignorance. The brunette held back a scoff.

Tools. There were tools everywhere.

And not just in a metaphorical sense either.

This was a hardware store.

The Italian slowly made his way down the leftmost aisle, hazel eyes absently inspecting the goods as the unwanted thoughts began to fill his head again.

'_**Fuck off. No one wants you here.**__**'**_

_Fuck you, Gilbert. Go choke on a hundred cocks, you piece of shit._

'_**Just because **_**you **_**don**__**'**__**t have a life doesn**__**'**__**t mean you have the right to ruin Feliciano**__**'**__**s.**__**'**_

_Vainglorious cunts like you are practically the reason why lives are ruined, anyway._

'_**No one wants you here.**__**'**_

_Common knowledge._

'_**No one**__**—'**_

_I__—_

'_**wants**__**—'**_

—_already__—_

'_**you here.**__**'**_

—_know!_

He gulps, trying to suppress the lump forming in his throat. Did they seriously think he didn't— _couldn__'__t _see how everyone was staring at him like he had _two _fucking heads? Did they really think of him that ignorant?

A shaky breath escapes his lips.

He wasn't blind.

Everyone hates him. He knows that already.

So why point out the fucking obvious, right?

…E-Even Feliciano didn't want him there, d-dammit…

_Fratello _was silent, so silent.

He was probably ashamed of having such a brother in the first place, with him c-causing such a scene like that…

_D-Dio__… __Of fucking _course _I know everyone would be better off without me, anyway._

Hazel eyes slowly glanced up, finally taking in its surroundings. Before him, he found ropes and cords of all kinds.

A bitter smirk tugged at his lips. Was this a sign?

He reached up for a length of brown rope made out of twine and wondered how difficult it'd be to make a noose out of it. The brunette experimentally tries bending the rope, as if making a knot in itself.

…It shouldn't be too hard.

This thing would support his weight, right?

He pulled at it, feeling its texture. This thing would wring his neck like a motherfucker, but it wouldn't matter because in a matter of minutes, he'd already be dead.

He took a glance at the price. _Jeez, how long _is _this thing?_

He decided that ten metres worth of rope was a bit too much.

Lovino leant down a fraction, trying to find the same type of rope but with shorter length. Shortest he could find was five metres long.

Good enough.

He pulled a coil of rope out of the hook and made his way to the back of the store, where the cashier register was. He set it down on the counter, averting the cashier's gaze. He was probably in his late forties. He wore a jumpsuit with the name tag 'Stan' embroidered on it. Stan reeked of sweat and beer.

Stan leant back from his newspaper and folded it away. He had a beer gut. Fucking disgusting.

"What're you going to do with this rope, kid?"

_What__'__re you going to do with your beer gut, Stan?_

"Tch," Lovino scoffed. "Nothing you need to know. Just ring it up."

Stan smirked this little smirk— the type that made Lovino want to throttle someone in his mentally disoriented state. "Heh. Sure, kid."

He really wanted to punch this guy in the face right now.

Several aggravating minutes later (he had to watch the lard ass try and reach for the stack of paper bags in front of him with much difficulty) he finally had his purchase stuffed in his backpack for later perusal.

He'd have to Google 'how to make a noose' later.

He exited the hardware store and made his way to the park, where he worked on his homework for Introduction to Creative Writing.

* * *

><p>Feliciano was beginning to feel a bit fidgety.<p>

It was nearing six PM and still, his brother was nowhere to be seen.

_Where is he?_

He leant against the island counter, staring at the dinner he'd prepared and laid across the dining table. He had cooked seafood marinara pasta and baked garlic bread to go along with it.

"Don't worry, Feliciano-kun. I'm sure your brother will get home soon." Kiku piped up from the general direction of the living room, staring at his friend with concern.

"V-Ve~ If you say so, Kiku…"

An hour earlier, Ludwig had still been here, whilst Feliciano was busying himself with cooking.

An hour later, Kiku left.

Feliciano was by his own lonesome now.

He hated the silence. It was unnerving.

_Is this__… __is this what _fratello _feels like whenever he__'__s alone at night? _He crossed his arms over his chest, trying to rub the cold away. _Ve~ I don__'__t like it._

_Clack._

Feliciano's heart skipped a beat as he ran towards the front door. "Lovi!" He launched himself into the older twin's arms, "Lovi, I missed you so much! Where were you?!"

Lovino glanced at him, an eyebrow raised in confusion. "The fuck? I had sociology class. Then I just—" An aggravated sigh escaped his lips. "I just went for a walk. I guess I lost track of time. _Mi dispiace_."

He pried Feliciano's arms off him.

"V-Ve~ About what happened earlier, _fratello_—"

"It's not your fault."

"But it _is_! I couldn't do anything, I couldn't stop them from saying bad things to you!" The younger Vargas was crying now.

Lovino sighed, wrapping his arms around his younger brother's body. "Calm the fuck down, Feliciano. This shit isn't new to me. I can handle it."

Muffled sobbing.

"…What?"

Feli pulled away, reiterating what he'd just said. "B-But I don't want you to handle it! Not on your own! What Gilbert said hurt me too, _fratello_!"

"Don't be," Lovino coaxes, rolling his eyes. "That idiot adores the shit out of you."

The other sniffled, pouting. "I'm mad at him right now."

"Tch, don't worry. I am too." The two hugged it out.

Finally, Feliciano was the first one to pull away, laughing albeit the tears still running down his reddened cheeks. "Ve~ _Ti amo_, _fratello_,"

The response is automatic, but it makes Lovino happy inside. "_Ti amo troppo_. C'mon, let's go eat before the food goes cold already, _si_?"

Feliciano nods, completely and blissfully unaware of the clumsily-made noose in Lovino's backpack.

* * *

><p><strong>Translations:<strong>

_pronto _- ready/hurry (It.)  
><em>fratello <em>- brother (It.)  
><em>idiota <em>- idiot (It.)  
><em>Dio <em>- God (It.)  
><em>mio fratello <em>- my brother (It.)  
><em>Dio mi salvi <em>- God save me (It.)  
><em>si <em>- yes (It./Esp.)  
><em>grazie <em>- thank you (It.)  
><em>bastardo <em>- bastard (It.)  
><em>mi dispiace <em>- I'm sorry (It.)  
><em>ti amo <em>- I love you (It.)  
><em>ti amo troppo <em>- I love you too (It.)

**So I made a thing because I didn****'****t really have anything to do. Much feels.**

**Review **_**por favor**_**~!**

**~jellydonut16~**

**P.S. I JUST DISCOVERED THE SPEECH TO TEXT FEATURE ON MY LAPTOP. I CAN NEVER TAKE MY OWN WRITING SERIOUSLY EVER AGAIN HAHAHA SOBS**

**WHAT IS LIFE**


	6. six

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_**Kicking the Bucket List**_

**six**

**"_I'm going blind, but one thing's clear,  
><em>****_Death is the only salvation for me._"  
><strong>— _**The House of Wolves **_**by Bring Me The Horizon**

That night, Lovino shoved the sloppily crafted noose underneath his bed, hidden in one of his Nike shoeboxes. He'd made it after his Sociology class was over. Like he told Feliciano, he took a walk. A long one, along the outskirts of the wood.

He found more inspiration in the wood than in the park, truth be told, so he scrapped his previous work and worked on it again. After a while, though, he had stopped to take a break. He decided to pull his phone out and search for tutorials on making a hangman's noose. I-It was getting dark, so the knot ended up being pretty shitty. But still, it felt somewhat _comforting _in a way to have that noose in his backpack, like the safety one would feel having a rosary in their pocket.

Sure, it was sick and twisted as fuck. But for _once_, he felt like he had control over _something _in his life.

It was like he found comfort in the promise of death. After all, it _was _inevitable. The only thing in this world anyone could ever be certain of. And everyone, despite rank, reputation, race, monetary possessions or beliefs, would eventually succumb to it.

_In the end, it only proves that push comes to shove, we__'__re only humans._

* * *

><p>…Lovino wasn't exactly sure what the fuck happened, but it sure as hell <em>seemed <em>like he had fallen into a routine. It's been several days now of the same thing.

_Every_day, Feliciano would wake up during the ass crack of dawn, belting out tunes from Billboard Hot 100 and concocting a myriad of colourful breakfast foods. _Every_day, he would dance and prance around the room, trying to get Lovino to d-_dance _with him (_what the actual fuck?_) or at least _sing _with him.

Hahahaha, no.

_Hell, no._

_**Over my dead, sexy Italian body, no.**_

_Ahem._

B-Besides, Lovino had no time for shit like that, d-dammit…

His day, however, would never fail to worsen the moment he stepped out of the apartment building. _Dio_, it was the _absolute fucking worst_.

Remember the Spanish bastard that tried to corrupt Feliciano's purity? The one who was _partially_ immune to Lovino's _Virginity Guardian Armour_?

Yeah, he would be there.

In front of the goddamn building.

_Every fucking morning._

Doing _what_, you ask?

Cheh, the _stronzo _would just fucking _loom _there outside like some goddamn _stalker _with bouquet upon bouquet of roses dedicated to his '_precious Feliciano_'. P-Perverted creep…

To Lovino, it was reminiscent of the music video for Mariah Carey's song 'Obsessed'.

The only thing it lacked now was a bus to ram into the Spaniard and launch him across town.

'_Where__'__s Feliciano?__' _the little shit would ask the _moment_ Lovino exited the apartment building. _Every _fucking time.

A-And Lovino was fed up with it, dammit!

"You know, I'm pretty sure this is trespassing of private property, asshole." Lovino sneered, exiting the building a Monday morning.

Then the _bastardo_ would just give him this irritatingly ignorant smile, "Ahaha~ This is an apartment block~ I'm not trespassing anyone's home, Lovino~."

Lovino's face flushed red in frustration. _Che palle! _"Yeah? Well I can report you to the goddamn police for _stalking my brother_, you creepy Spanish bastard!"

And as if on cue, Feliciano would skip out of the building. Lovino always, _always _has to intercept the Spanish bastard's hugs— with his motherfucking _foot_— before he has the chance to glomp (and further corrupt) his innocent _fratello_.

The bastard just _wouldn__'__t give up_. And i-it's bad enough that Lovino couldn't get the bastard to leave him and his _fratello _alone, no, the fucker _lingered_.

It was annoying as fuck.

The absolute _best _Lovino could do was to stay in between Feliciano and Antonio as they c-conversed, like some kind of fucking cockblock barrier o-or something…

Fuck.

He seriously needed to get his shit straightened out, ASAP.

There were many things Lovino didn't want to be, and being a 'cockblock barrier' was _definitely _one of them.

A-And _every_day, he would be _so livid _by the time his first class came around, he couldn't even fucking _function _properly. Learning and processing new lessons isn't exactly a walk in the goddamn park when you feel like ripping a certain _Spaniard__'__s _throat out.

_Dio mio_, whenever he _happened _to have the same classes as the bastard (Antonio's an irregular student in his math and philosophy classes), he would _try _to resist the undeniable urge to fucking _defenestrate _him, but just barely. _Just. Barely._

He could tell, though, that the Spaniard wasn't too happy about his being around either, always asking Feliciano if they could just t-talk in _private_. So when he and Lovino had classes together, it was like Antonio was trying to annoy him with stupid questions and remarks on purpose as some kind of _payback_. He saw that gleam of irritation and mischievousness in his emerald green eyes, and it was painfully obvious that the smile on his face was fake. It was almost _taunting_, even. Truth is, he was no different than that self-proclaimed Prussian dickhead, Gilbert, or that perverted French fuckface, Francis. After all, birds of the same feather flock together, right?

Lovino wasn't sure exactly how long he could take being around the idiot anymore before he finally committed a felony.

But _Dio_, it would feel_ so fucking good_.

He snapped out of his tantalisingly illegal thoughts. It's funny how imaginative the human mind can be with the right kind of _pissed_. Funny, but at the same time, somewhat scary and unnerving. How perturbing would it be to realise that you have the inner workings of a psychopathic serial killer?

Feliciano and that bastard were still talking animatedly. Lovino rolled his eyes, taking a glance at his watch. He had the same math class as that Spanish bastard, but it didn't seem like he would be leaving Feliciano alone anytime soon.

…Asshole.

He felt conflicted.

Either he leaves them be and _not _be late for class, or he _looms _there until the idiot finally leaves his _fratello _alone.

_Dio_, that's a tough one.

But the Vargas didn't want to be marked as 'late' so early in the academic year because some Spanish fucker thinks he has the so-called '_suaveness_' to get into his _fratello__'__s _pants. That is _never _going to happen.

**Ever.**

"I'm going now," Lovino murmured to his brother, rolling his eyes.

Immediately, Feliciano directed his attention to his _fratellone _and gave him a quick hug. "Ve~ I'll see you later, Lovi~!"

Lovino's face reddened, trying to pry Feli's arms off him "W-What the fuck? Don't just h-hug me like that in _public_, dammit!"

"Aww, that's so cute~!" Antonio suddenly gushed, starry-eyed at the display.

"Ugh, stop staring, you perverted fuck!" Lovino spat out, voice absolutely dripping with rancour.

The smile on the Spanish bastard's face faltered by a fraction. The older Vargas inwardly smirked.

"Ahaha~ Right. _Lo siento_, Lovino." Antonio laughed, but it was obvious that his laugh was fake. He glanced down at his watch then looked up at Lovino, eyes slightly more serious, more dark. Like a hidden gleam of murderous intent.

Looks like Lovino wasn't the only one with closeted psychopathic serial killer tendencies around here.

The Italian let the smirk slowly creep upon his face in a mocking manner.

Feliciano ignored the promise of future bodily harm exchanged between the two and clutched the bouquet of roses Toni had given him to his chest. "Ve~ Thanks for the roses again, Toni~!"

As if a switch had flipped, Toni turned to Feli with an oh-so genuine grin on his face. "Ah, it's no problem, Feli~! Anything for someone as cute as you~"

"But you really don't have to, Toni~ Our apartment is filled with roses now~!"

"Oh? Then if you want, I can give you chocolates instead~"

"This is disgusting." Lovino inadvertently blurted out, abruptly turning around and walking away. "I don't have time for this. I'm leaving."

"Ah, I better head to class," Antonio concurred, pointing at his watch. "I don't want to be late~!"

Feliciano nodded in understanding. "Bye Toni~! By _fratello_~! I'll text you during lunch, Lovi~!"

The older Vargas didn't bother looking back. "Yeah, whatever."

"If you want, you can text _me _during lunch~!" Antonio had the audacity to say.

Sleazy bastard.

"V-Ve~ You two better get to class now~!" Feliciano exclaimed, waving at them goodbye. Little did the other two know he was internally panicking. _What if _fratello _starts chasing Toni again?!_

"Ah, _si_, _si_! I'll talk to you soon, Feliciano~!"

_Ve~ _Grazie a _Dio~ He didn__'__t acknowledge it! Crisis averted~!_

"_Ciao_~!"

And Antonio finally turned around, following the other Italian to their class. He sped up a bit more, grabbing Lovino's forearm.

Lovino whipped around to face him, fist clenched and poised to punch. "What the fuck do you want?!"

"_What _is your _problem_, Lovino?" Antonio demanded, eyes narrowed. "_I__'__m _just trying to be the nice guy here, but you aren't even _trying _to be nice to me."

"Bullshit. What do you even _mean _by 'nice guy'? You think you're nice because you're trying to screw my brother? And why the fuck should I even '_try_' to be nice to a fake bastard like you? At least I call it how I see it, and all I see right now is a fucking _asshole_." Lovino jerked his arm away, casting a sneer at the Spaniard. He continued walking.

"Oh, and _you__'__re _the one to talk! Ahahaha~" Antonio 'laughs' in response, hot on the other's heels.

The Italian scoffs at him, "Yeah, I am, because it takes one to know one. At least I can find it in myself to admit it."

A pregnant silence falls over them before Antonio is the one to break it.

"God, why can't you be more like Feliciano?"

Lovino's stomach lurches. He stops dead in his tracks, leaving the Spaniard to bump into him.

"H-Hey, what was that for—"

"I ask myself the same thing all the fucking time," the Italian responds, tone bitter with contempt. "I'm going to say this once, and I'm going to say this slowly." He turns to face the Spaniard, toe-to-toe as he glared up at those emerald eyes.

And for the first time, Antonio was taken aback with the intensity of hazel. His heart had skipped a beat before it started to thrumagainst his chest. _D-Dios mio__…_

"You don't _know_ me. You never _will_. Got it?" The Italian before him seethed, and, as promised, each word was pronounced slowly as it sunk into the Spaniard's conscience.

The latter's breathing intensified as he gave the other a curt nod.

T-Then Lovino turned around and walked into their classroom.

Antonio was just left standing there, feeling overwhelmed in a way. With what, he didn't know.

…Yet.

He stood there for a while before he finally entered the room.

"Fernandez-Carriedo, you're late." His math professor drawls, prompting a handful of people to chuckle.

"Ah, _lo siento_, _Se__ñ__or _Robertson." Toni apologised, grinning sheepishly at him.

"Just take a seat, Mr. Carriedo." Mr. Robertson says, writing out a couple of equations on the board.

"Ah, _si_! _Gracias_, sir," And with that, Antonio made his way up to his seat in the back of the room.

Beside Lovino.

_Dios_, the tension between them was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. He could feel it from all the way across the room, even!

Slowly, he took his seat beside the Italian, who did not acknowledge his presence. Instead, the latter was busy scribbling something down in his notebook, some words barely intelligible as they danced across the page, line by line, word by word.

Antonio didn't know why, but Lovino was always engrossed in his notebook. He always wrote.

About what, he had no idea.

He had a hunch it contained innumerable expletives though. The older twin just seemed so _angry _and unapproachable all the time. Actually, scratch that— he _is _angry and unapproachable all the time.

But why?

* * *

><p>Lovino was pissed.<p>

W-Well… _more _pissed than usual, anyway, d-dammit…

But, no, seriously. Who the fuck does that Spanish bastard _think _he is, comparing him to Feliciano like that? If there was one thing he hated more than himself, it was being reminded of what he already knew. E-Even though Lovino's gotten used to the comparisons already, that didn't mean they didn't affect him anymore. So, yeah, it still _did_. It sure as hell did.

And you know what?

It fucking _hurts_.

It hurts a _lot _(N-Not that he'd admit it to anyone else, anyway, d-dammit).

Like, _yeah_, thanks for fucking _rubbing it in his face _about how much _better _his brother is. It's like rubbing salt into his wounds, kicking him when he's already down. And he, for the sake of himself, could not find a way to get back up on his feet again.

In all honesty, he didn't want to. Not anymore.

After being brought down time and time again by the people around him, he'd given up a long time ago trying to pick up the pieces. Because since nothing would ever get better for him, why even bother trying, right?

Because no matter all the bullshit you go through in life, it all ends the same, right? So why not just _give up_?

_Nothing__'__s _going to change— at least, for the better— so why even try at all?

The duration of the class, he had to suppress this lump of feels forming in the back of his throat, feeling an onslaught of tears sting the back of his eyes. He felt like a wuss because of it, but he wouldn't let anyone see him cry, and they never will.

He won't give them that satisfaction.

Plus, why should that Spanish bastard's opinion matter to him anyway? He's no different than the rest of them.

Right?

As the class came to an end, he felt the Spaniard's eyes lingering on him for a few seconds. Just as Lovino was to meet his gaze with a pointed glare, a retort readied on the tip of his tongue, Antonio had grabbed his bag in haste and left.

Lovino's eyes narrowed, trained on Antonio's quickly retreating form.

_Fucking weirdo._

* * *

><p><strong>Translations:<strong>

_D__io_ - God (It.)  
><em>stronzo<em> - asshole (It.)  
><em>bastardo<em> - bastard (It.)  
><em>Che<em> _palle_ - what a pain in the ass (It.)  
><em>fratello<em> - brother (It.)  
><em>Dio<em> _mio_ - oh my God (It.)  
><em>fratellone<em> - older brother (It.)  
><em>lo<em> _siento_ - sorry (Esp.)  
><em>si<em> - yes (Esp.)  
><em>grazie<em> _a_ _Dio_ - thank God (It.)  
><em>ciao<em> - hello/goodbye (It.)  
><em>Dios<em> _mio_ - oh my God (Esp.)  
><em>se<em>_ñ__or_ - mister (Esp.)  
><em>gracias<em> - thank you (Esp.)  
><em>Dios<em> - God (Esp.)

**Hayy~ I tried to finish this chapter in time for the weekend since I****'****ll be pretty busy next week.**

**OH, YOU *sassy hand wave***

**Thanks **_**so much**_** for all of the reviews! I****'****m not kidding when I say they made me blush. I feel so **_**elated**_**~ [CRIE S T EA RS OF J OY]**

**Anyways, I****'****m sorry this chapter was kinda really short D: I****'****ll totes post a longer one next time~ but I hope it was up to par. This chapter was kind of like a filler intended to shed much needed light on Toni and Lovi, and how much shittier their relationship has gotten since that day in the diner. Who knows what****'****ll happen next? ?**

**[suSPENSEFUL MUSIC]**

**Review, **_**por favor**_**~!**

**~jellydonut16~**


	7. seven

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_**Kicking the Bucket List**_

**seven**

_**l**__**'**__**esprit de l**__**'**__**escalier  
><strong>_— **(Fr.) That feeling you get when you leave  
><strong>**a conversation and think of all  
><strong>**the things you should have said.**

Every second week of the first semester in each academic year of Evergreen Hollows' University was known as Organisation Week, oft abbreviated as Org Week. Each course had their own mandatory organisation, though there were a myriad of other extracurricular organisations as well. These organisations would hold general assemblies, meetings, and workshops in order to improve oneself at his or her respective course.

One of these was the Evergreen Hollows Performing Arts Society, or PAS for short.

The PAS often holds many workshops and orientations to accommodate the creative needs of their organisation members, and, during semestral breaks, bring the students to strategic parts of the world (New York, USA; Los Angeles, USA; London, UK; Paris, France; etc.) in order to help them find their niche in the inner workings of performing arts through exposure to different dramatic art forms and through experience itself.

…At least, that's what the brochure said. A-And, at least, t-that's what Lovino would have g-gotten had he not been so distracted b-by the redhead sitting in front of him…

_Fuck! Why is my h-hand shaking, dammit?!_

"Are yeh alright? Yer face is all red an' yer hand is shakin'. D'yeh want ta go ta th' clinic? If yeh want, Ah can take yeh there," Allistor queries, looking at the brunette before him with concern.

"_No_, I'm _fine_!" The Italian exclaims, hyperaware of his flushed cheeks getting even redder. _Fuck. Why me?!_

_Why _now_?!_

"Positive?" the redhead asks, standing up from his seat across Lovino and pressing the back of his hand against Lovino's forehead. It feels cool against his flushed skin. The latter found himself leaning into the former's touch. "Yeh can barely fill out th' sign-up sheet." Allistor draws his hand back and Lovino catches himself before he leans in too much._ How pathetic._

"Why don't yeh sit 'ere an' Ah'll get yeh somefink ta drink. Yeh good wi' tha'?" Allistor asks, pushing Lovino in the general direction of the seat the redhead had previously occupied. The girl sitting beside him gave the Italian a sympathetic glance.

It's only when Allistor heads to the cafeteria beside the atrium when she speaks up. "Sorry about that. Allistor's got these maternal tendencies. He babies everyone. Better get used to it. Sit down, yeah?"

"Y-Yeah…" Lovino murmurs, wondering what the fuck just happened.

"I'm Magda. Magdalene, but call me Magda." The girl says, grinning at him. She has curly hair dyed mint green and baby blue, caramel skin, and a few piercings here and there. They shake hands.

Lovino finally collects himself in time and gives her an alluring smile. "A beautiful name for a beautiful girl. My name's Lovino."

"What's your course, Lovino?"

"Creative Writing. You?"

"Media production." She smiles, tilting her head back. "Sit down now, I'm not gonna bite,"

"R-Right…" He takes a seat beside her. They sit in an awkward silence for a while.

Not even thirty seconds later, Allistor is back with a paper cup of water in hand. He hands it to Lovino— "You didn't h-have to get me this, d-dammit…"— who takes it with trembling hands and gingerly takes a small sip.

"God. You are _such _a mum, Allistor." Magdalene comments.

He pouts at her. "Nuffink bad wi' tha', methinks. An' i' comes wif takin' care of three li'l brothers,"

She laughs, "Colin is older than you by three years."

Allistor grins at her. "S'not m' fault 'e acts like e's bloody fifteen." He glances at the Italian. "Hey, yeh feelin' better yet?" His forest green eyes widen in realisation. "Oh! Yeah, Ah haven't caught yer name yet. Ah'm Allistor, by th' way."

Lovino sets the cup down, hiding his face behind his hand in a way that it'd seem like he was wiping his mouth. "My name's Lovino."

_Fuck, _he thinks to himself. And that's all he can basically think of right now, because his mind is so fucking _blank_ at the moment. All he can focus on is _Allistor_, right in front of him, talking to him, fetching _water _for him— like, who the fuck does that for a stranger, d-dammit?!— and Allistor himself.

Any train of coherent thought flew right off the fucking track the moment he glanced up and found his eyes locked with the redhead's own. His breath caught in his throat. _Dio_, he was so fucking _beautiful_, he looked like a work of art he could stare at and admire 'til the end of time.

Lovino's hand twitched. He wanted to write, and fast—before his words left him, though he knew his words could never capture such a pulchritudinous, transcendental moment. He hated that he could never do perfection personified any literary justice.

He was drawn to Allistor akin a moth to a flame.

Oh, _yes_, how he wanted that fire to consume his being oh-so very badly until there was nothing left.

_Unleash the crappy poetry__—_

A cool hand met his forehead again. _Allistor__'__s _hand.

And again, his mind went blank.

_Just_ like that.

"Ah don't fink yeh've got a fever or anyfink… Why is yer face so _red_?"

Lovino jerked his head away and immediately regretted doing so.

"Did Ah hurt yeh? Ah'm sorry—"

"Don't apologise." Lovino cut in, abruptly standing up and ignoring the guilt that spiked his conscience. He licks his lips, trying the find the right words to say so he could make his escape.

"I just—" Hazel eyes glance down at the sign-up sheet. He grabs the pen given and scrawls his basic information on it in haste. "I need to go. I forgot I had something to do."

He rushes off, faintly hearing Allistor call out, "Ah'll see yeh around then!"

The blush on the Italian's face deepens as he heads to the general direction of the campus gates.

"You scared him off," Magda nonchalantly says, filing her black stiletto fingernails to perfection whilst Allistor observed Lovino's quickly retreating figure, feeling a smidgen perplexed.

He looks at her in exasperation. "Rubbish. Ah did _not_."

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Allistor. You proper _smothered _the blazes out of the poor bloke, and now you've scared him off! _Bad Allistor!_"

"Oi! For th' record, Ah did _not _smother 'im!"

She sits up a bit more on the plastic chair, mockingly giving the redhead a betrayed look. "Cor! Some friend _you_ are. _I _tell you to buy me a bag of crisps, and _you _say you're too tired to! Bollocks! Proper bollocks!"

His eyes widen incredulously. "Tha' was _one time_, Mags! Williams 'ad me goin' back an' forth, tryin' ta finish tha' damned thesis— Ah was runnin' on a _deadline_ for God's sake!"

"Lies! Fallacies!" Magda cried out, clutching her fisted palm to her chest. "Oh, how they _wound_ me so!"

"Such _passion_. Yeh should've taken up acting," Allistor comments, taking his seat beside her.

She waved him off, "Theatrics aside, methinks you've got a thing for him,"

He sat up straight. "A-Are yeh… are yeh saying tha' Ah fancy 'im? Because Ah don't—"

"Oh, don't give me that bull— He comes in and suddenly, you're all up in his face, concerned and oh-so very worried for his well-being! Look at you, running about the campus like some deranged madman, _just_ to get him a cup of water he didn't even _ask _for! It's a bloody miracle! For the first time in _all _the years that I've known you, _you _finally show interest in someone~!" She declares, flourishing her hands before her. "Blokes over birds it is, then."

"W-_What_—" he sputters out, his face reddening. "Yeh're _absolutely crackers_, Mags! Now, _shush_—"

"Oh, please, dearie— sexual discrimination is _so _1800s. It's absolutely horrid and medieval now. Don't be embarrassed~ It's about time the world accepts the fact that some people are just not bound to the gender of their biological sex. Though, I'll admit that I've never twigged you the type to fancy men."

"Me neither," the redhead solemnly mumbles under his breath, rubbing his palms together in deep thought.

* * *

><p>After hightailing it out of the campus, Lovino found himself locked in his bedroom. His prison. His solace.<p>

He was immersed in his thoughts, drowning in them. Drowning in enchanting green eyes that always seemed to capture him.

He looked into those eyes and everything else just… f-faded away. In that ephemeral, encompassing moment, his thoughts devoured him whole and he found himself wishing to do things that have never crossed his mind before.

He was bordering on dangerous thoughts. Thoughts that are only dangerous for people like him.

He wanted Allistor.

He wanted Allistor to want him.

Dangerous thoughts indeed.

He felt enthralled at the redhead's careful, cautious touch. The way after Allistor drew his hand away, his touch still lingered on the Italian's flushed skin. It drove his senses crazy. He wanted more. He _craved_ for more.

But at the same time, it made him sad. These thoughts were dangerous because they made him wish for things he could never have.

He could never be good enough for someone like Allistor.

Allistor could never love someone like him.

Lovino was too callous. He was too short-tempered. He thought too much and spoke too little. Even then, he had a foul mouth that put most sailors his senior to shame.

Dangerous thoughts.

Thoughts of things he had no control over.

Thoughts that made him want to cease existing altogether _just _to spare whatever was left of his heart from the inevitable hurt.

A-And the way he just _left _like that. He screwed everything up. Why couldn't he at _least _say something more coherent and made room for conversation? Why did he always have to ruin everything? Why did he always have to cut these things short?

Overwhelmed with guilt, Lovino tossed and turned in bed, thinking of all the words he should have said. Only in his thoughts did he imagine himself to be nice. To be witty. Funny. Charming. All the things he never ever could be.

Dangerous thoughts _everywhere_.

Allistor plagued his mind. Everything about him. The way he walked, talked, looked, and even _breathed_. **Everything.**

Memorise everything, _down _to the very last detail.

Like the freckles on his cheeks, the porcelain texture of his skin.

The way his vibrant scarlet hair had this lock that always fell over his face.

Coffee.

He smelled like coffee and cigarettes.

He smoked.

Perfection personified had vices too.

_But that__'__s the point, isn__'__t it? _Lovino's thoughts supplied. _To find someone whose demons play well with ours?_

He contemplated that for a second. _Is it? Or isn__'__t it?_

Lovino felt conflicted. There was a knock on his bedroom door. It successfully brings him out of his thoughts, though it lasts only a moment.

"Ve~ _Fratello_?" Feliciano is home.

Staccato breathing.

Lovino's heart is nearly beating out of his chest, and he's found himself drenched in cold sweat. He sits up on the bed.

How long had he been there like that?

_C-Calm the fuck down, d-dammit__… _he tells himself.

"I'm here, just give me a minute," he tells Feliciano.

"Lovi, are you okay?" Feli asks, concern lacing his tone. "You sound out of breath."

Lovino's response is quick, clipped, and automatic. "I'm fine. Just leave me alone."

* * *

><p><em>Finally<em>, Lovino had an incentive to go to their town's shitty mall. Feliciano needed to get more art supplies and Lovino needed to get a journal. The older Vargas brother had read through his syllabus for Intro to Creative Writing during lunch and found that he needed one to… _divulge _his thoughts in.

The Italian wasn't exactly sure how he'd go about avoiding the task, but he was sure it'd settle itself somehow.

So that evening, after both of their classes, Lovino and Feliciano got into the black Range Rover _Nonno _had gotten Lovino as an 18th birthday present and went to the mall. _Nonno_ had gotten Feli a white Mercedes-Benz as well, but it was back in their former home.

Lovino's Range Rover had proven to be more useful during the move to their new apartment. P-Plus, the Mercedes wouldn't have gotten much use from its owner, anyway…

Especially since Lovino was the only one who could legally drive. Like, he actually _had_ a driver's licence.

Sure, they both applied for a driver's permit, but Feliciano hadn't passed his exam because he couldn't suppress his inner Italian Speed Demon as well as his older brother did. He sped down the road like some jacked up high schooler recreating his own version of Need For Speed.

It took Lovino all of his willpower to _not _take that as a challenge and race after his _fratello_. He fucking _needed _this licence and no wannabe Formula One racer was going to take that from him, _idiota fratellino_ or not.

Feliciano had yet to retake his test. Which didn't matter anyway, since there was only one car and Lovino sure as hell wasn't letting Feli take the wheel, _especially _after the latter had made the oh-so very _stunning_ display of making donuts on the asphalt as he was fucking _drifting_ to a halt. He could practically hear _Highway to Hell _playing in the distance.

Lovino also heard that the driving instructor Feli was with quit soon thereafter.

Hopefully, she must have found a better job by now, _si_?

_Any_ways, the mall… was ugly as fuck. _Dio_, he _hated _it. The walls were painted in the bland shades of taupe and ochre, and the place was filled with fake foliage in order to make the mall more 'aesthetically-pleasing'. Eurgh. Either way, he was here with a purpose. Get a journal, wait for Feliciano to finish up his art supplies run, and haul ass back home.

It was his turn to make dinner tonight, and he didn't want the salmon he had set aside for defrosting out for too long.

The **only** redeeming factor about this mall was its art supplies shop. _Artist__'__s Corner _was a store that was half as huge as the supermarket in the ground floor. It specially catered to artists of all art forms and mediums. It even had scrapbooking materials of all kinds. Upon entering, the shop already overwhelms one's senses with the scent of paints and wooden frames.

Feliciano found the smell to be addicting, to be honest. N-Not that he was getting high off of the paint fumes, or anything! These were canvas paints, after all! Not house paint~! That would be _ridiculous!_

He grabbed a cart and immediately bounded towards the nook with different canvasses. Feliciano had been here so many times, if they didn't have the apartment, he would've considered this to be his second home.

Within minutes, Feliciano had filled the cart with all he'd need for the meantime~

Lovino eventually showed up from walking around with a Moleskine journal in hand. He placed it on the conveyor belt at the check out counter and paid for everything.

Then they went home.

* * *

><p>"Say," Antonio starts, looking up from his laptop. "Why is Lovino so angry all the time?" He glances at his two flatmates in curiosity.<p>

Gilbert rolls his carmine eyes, his attention primarily focussed on the PSP in his pale hands as he lounged on the plush black leather couch. "The hell if I'd know, _mein Freund_. That kid's always had a yardstick shoved up his ass." He smashed a few more buttons before adding, "I don't think I've ever seen him genuinely smile. His brother's _way _better. Cuter, too."

Francis sets his manuscript down on the dining table, making his way to the kitchenette to retrieve a bottle of red wine, silently observing the exchange taking place before him.

"He writes a lot, _si_?" Toni asks, typing a few keys on his keyboard before reaching for his notebook in his backpack on the floor beside the recliner. Gilbert shrugs his shoulders.

"Yes, he's taking up creative writing," Francis speaks up, reaching for a wine glass in one of the cupboards. He uncorks the bottle of wine and pours some into the glass.

"What does he write about?" Antoine queries.

The blond takes a small sip of his drink before setting the bottle down atop one of the marble counters. "I can't say for sure about what, _mon ami_," he answers honestly.

"He probably just writes about how he hates everyone on the face of the planet," Gilbert mused. "_Gott_, he's such a whiny bitch."

Cerulean blue eyes glance up at the Spaniard. "Why are you so curious about him, anyway, Antoine?"

Antonio catches Francis' eye. He shrugs his shoulders in indifference, "I don't know. I just am, I guess. He's angry twenty-four-seven, so there _has _to be a reason or something behind it, right?"

The Frenchman gives him an enigmatic smile. "…But of course."

* * *

><p>"Ve~ Lovi?" Feliciano's voice pipes up from the living room.<p>

"Hmm?" Lovino hums in response, finishing up with prepping the salmon on the chopping board before him.

"What do you think of Luddy?"

Lovino's mind blanked out for a second. "What?"

"Y'know… Ludwig? The blond guy. The one you met That Day In The Diner. I call him Luddy."

"…Who the fuck is he?" Lovino asks, setting one serving onto the pan to be seared. He turns the heat up.

"He's a friend of mine and Kiku's! He's super smart and he's taking engineering at Evergreen Hollows, too~"

"So? You think I give a shit?"

"I just—" Feliciano came into view, leaning over the island counter. He glances down at his clasped hands and sighs. "No. You probably don't." He slowly nods to himself, smiling sombrely. "He's nice, you know?"

The older Vargas brother alternating between making the pesto and the pan-seared salmon glanced up at Feliciano, hazel eyes narrowed slightly. "Your point is..?"

"I don't know. I just wanted to… start a conversation~!" A tense silence falls over them before the younger twin is the first to break it. "You've been kind of distant lately," Feliciano blurted out. "And quiet. Really quiet. And I've been worried. Really worried."

Another pregnant silence engulfs the room, save for the occasional sound of the salmon sizzling on the pan, or Lovino stirring the pesto around on the shallow pot.

Just as the latter was going to speak, Feli had cut him off. "You know… If there's _any_thing going on, you know you can talk to me, right—"

"Yeah, but I'm fine." Lovino finally interjects, searing the other side of the salmon. He turns the heat for the pesto off. "Nothing's… 'going on', so don't— don't worry about me."

"You worry about _me_ though,"

"Yeah, why shouldn't I? You're my little brother—"

"_Si_, but by _twenty minutes_! An age difference of _twenty minutes _doesn't mean I can't be concerned about you, too!"

Lovino set the pesto spoon down a bit too harshly. He whipped around to face his _fratellino_, arms crossed over his chest as he glared at his brother in irritation. "What _is _there to be concerned about? Look at me," he flourished his arms before himself, "I'm _fine_. F-I-N-E, _fine_. God, Feliciano, why do you have to make such a big deal out of nothing?"

Albeit his façade of supposed indifference, the older Vargas brother's heart was beating rapidly against his chest. Guilt seized his being. What if… What if Feliciano _knew_?

About the noose under his bed, about the bucket list.

About how he was one step closer to his own undoing with every item on that list that he was to cross out.

About the thoughts that have been running rampant in his head lately.

Dangerous thoughts.

_Dio_, what if they shared some unspoken Telepathic Twin Connection or something only Feliciano picked up on? He could barely hide anything from his twin as it is. Ironically, unbeknownst to him, all the colour had been drained from his face on display for his _fratello _to see.

Lovino turned around and resumed cooking. "This conversation is over."

Feliciano wanted to continue pressing Lovi for answers, he really did, but seeing his brother suddenly grow _pallid _like that had **(terrified him)** been a clear warning to not pursue the topic further.

At least… not right now. Not yet.

**(Not until Feliciano was _sure _he himself could take it.)**

* * *

><p>The next morning, Antonio found himself in front of the Vargas brothers' apartment block again.<p>

This time, he had brought chocolates instead of flowers.

He, of course, gave them to Feliciano.

Lovino made no move to stop him.

Antonio wondered why.

* * *

><p><strong>Translations:<strong>

_fratello _- brother (It.)  
><em>nonno <em>- grandfather (It.)  
><em>idiota <em>- idiot (It.)  
><em>fratellino <em>- younger brother (It.)  
><em>si <em>- yes (It./Esp.)  
><em>Dio <em>- God (It.)  
><em>mein Freund <em>- my friend (Dt.)  
><em>mon ami <em>- my friend (Fr.)  
><em>Gott <em>- God (Dt.)

**I got writer****'****s block for this chapter. I hope it wasn****'****t evident, but I think it is. I****'****m trying so hard right now not to denigrate my work since doubting myself and my capabilities as a writer has the tendency to make my writing overthought-out and terrible since I just become this paranoid parrot and I dissect each and every part of my writing until there****'****s nothing left for me to be happy with.**

**I guess my negative vibes affected this chapter, and now, everything****'****s just **_**sad **_**in a pathetic way. I don****'****t want this story to be entirely emo or depressing, albeit the fact that the main plot point of the entire fic circulates around death, or at least, the underlying promise of it.**

**But **_**any**_**ways, have this fanfiction writing tip from Lovino~! To lighten things up a bit~!**

_**Fanfic tip #1:**_

When writing steamy, hot bathroom sex scenes for your gay OTP, _Dio_, for realness' sake, **NEVER** use shampoo or soap as lube, dammit! Because that shit STINGS LIKE A MOTHERFUCKER. SOAPS ARE **NOT** SUPPOSED TO GO INTO YOUR BUTTHOLE BC IT WILL LEAVE YOU FUCKING _WRITHING _AND CURLED UP _WEEPING_ IN A FOETAL POSITION ON THE BATHROOM FLOOR LIKE THE PUSSY YOU PROBABLY ARE, QUITE POSSIBLY KILLING 'THE MOOD'.

…S-So yeah. Use something along the lines of body oil, KY jelly, or maybe even aCTUAL LUBE for fucking… oh, God— 'o-_optimal_' results or something, capisce?

_Chigi!_ S-Stop looking at me like that, dammit!

**Review, **_**por favor**_**~!**

**~jellydonut16~**

**P.S. Thanks so much for all the feedback~**

**P.P.S. The PAS****' ****trips to different strategic parts of the country are actually based on my college****'****s trips overseas in real life, so I****'****m gonna base majority of the #collegelyfe stuff on my own (limited) experience~**

**P.P.P.S. Sam Smith is amazing. That is all.**


	8. eight

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_**Kicking the Bucket List**_

**eight**

"_**You write so  
><strong>__**beautifully, the  
><strong>__**inside of your  
><strong>__**mind must be a  
><strong>__**terrifying place.**_**"  
><strong>—**Unknown**

It was a Tuesday morning when Lovino discovered he had a new fear. Though, to be honest, it was more on _newfound _than it was new.

So it started with Lovino's first class of the day. Intro to Creative Writing. He got there on time, he took his seat in the back of the room, and he had his assignment already in his black portfolio.

Five minutes to nine, Professor Sharp arrived, a huge stack of books and papers in her arms. She set it down on her desk with a hint of difficulty before waiting for the rest of the class to arrive.

And, finally, it's nine o' clock. She claps her hands together— _clap! clap!_— and everyone's attention is immediately focussed on her. It cuts through the low buzz of chatter, and within seconds, the room is silent.

"Good morning, everyone. I take it you've all had a busy first week. Hopefully, yesterday did not suck. Then again, Mondays are always rough, so," she shrugs her shoulders. "Yeah. Okay, I take it you all have your assignments with you, yes?"

Several people automatically nod in affirmation.

Lovino reaches for his black portfolio, which he had haphazardly shoved inside his backpack when he'd taken his seat.

Professor Sharp continues speaking. "Alright, so our game plan for today is to split up in groups of five," She raises her hand up, thumb folded into her palm. "And there'll be four groups, since there are twenty of us."

"This course will primarily consist of workshops. Attendance is of the utmost importance, so please refrain from missing classes. I'll give you all the heads-up a week before the workshop starts, so you can all prepare your work, which I will elaborate further later. But, as for now, in your groups, each one of you will read your work before the others so they can give their creative feedback, and vice versa."

_Cosa?_

Lovino suddenly felt his stomach lurch at the prospect. He swallowed this lump that had formed in the back of his throat as his heart began to palpitate.

"As a writer, one must know how to accept constructive criticism from not only superiors, but from those around him. But one must also know how to critique others in order to help them grow, and, I guess, as a way to make sure you know what you're talking about. View it as a form of give and take. Understood?"

And so, Professor Sharp divided the class into four groups of five people. Lovino still couldn't shake of the feeling of queasiness as he stood up and languidly made his way to the cenacle located in the front of the class.

No one seated spared him a glance.

They were all acquainted. No wonder.

He felt kind of really awkward and out-of-place as he sat in their group. They were animatedly discussing the life works of Edgar Allan Poe. Admittedly, a topic Lovino couldn't really, uh… talk about. He wasn't particularly familiar with… a lot of literary forms, he was sad to say.

He just— _Dio_, he just _wrote_.

Loads and loads.

A-As a way of expressing himself.

And, admittedly, he didn't read as much as he would like.

M-Maybe taking this course wasn't such a great idea, d-dammit…

God, why did he have to be such a n00b? All of them are probably, like, fucking book zealots or something, singing the praises of books he's never heard of by writers he never knew existed.

Yep. It was that bad.

_I__'__m fucked, _he thinks to himself, beginning to jog his left foot out of nervousness.

He fidgeted in his seat, his discomfort speaking volumes in the group. The others caught wind of the Italian's agitation, but didn't know what to say.

They expected someone else to start talking to the kid, introduce themselves and the rest of them, but no one stepped up to the plate.

He watched as they pulled out their work without a trace of nervousness or hesitance. Why couldn't he do the same?

His hand couldn't help but tremble as he retrieved the portfolio from his bag and pulled out the computerised and printed version of his work out and set it down on the desk.

Immediately, the girl beside him began to read hers.

His gut wrenched, his hands were clammy, and his heart was beating against his chest _so_ hard, he half expected it to burst out of his chest. He just— he just couldn't focus on her words, no matter how much he wanted to; needed to.

He licks his lips, pressing them together into a grim line.

…Fine. Fucking confession time.

Truth be told, he has _never _shown his literary work to anyone else before. Fucking _ever_.

_**EVER.**_

Sure, he's submitted essays and reports, and shit, but this? Something that is a product of the inner workings of his chaotic mind?

No.

Fuck, no.

Even _Feliciano _hasn't gotten to read his writing before. _Dio_, when Lovino said he wanted to take creative writing in college, _Nonno _looked at him like he had _two fucking heads_.

Although Lovino knew his professor would be the one to read and critique his writing—that was inevitable— he hadn't had the _slightest _goddamn clue that his classmates would be criticising his work.

For fuck's sake, he _knows _he should just 'get over it', but it's not that fucking easy, dammit!

He just— he didn't want them to read his work. He didn't want to know all of the flaws in his writing pointed out to him, not when he's already so aware of the flaws he possesses as a person. Doing so would, in his opinion, would shatter the one thing he's found his faith in doing.

But that was ironic. Hypocritical, even.

He knows the deal. He knows how it's supposed to go. You're going to be judged. Your work will be put under some metaphorical microscope of some critic who may or may not be too hard on you. It'll either break your spirit, or motivate you to better yourself.

You will be knocked down, but out of necessity, you will _need_ to get your shit together again, step the fuck back, and look at where you dun goof'd. And it'll be the hardest goddamn thing you have _ever_ done in your life.

Lovino _knows _all of that.

He _wants _to better himself, _yes_— dammit, what kind of writer _doesn__'__t_?— but… b-but it's just so… eurgh.

It's— It's complicated…

It may seem like some sort of half-assed bullshit excuse, but it's true!

A-And it sucks because he knows that the one thing holding him back is himself.

He is his own greatest critic. But he isn't even sure if he can handle the heat.

By the time he finally breaks free from his thoughts, he girl beside him is halfway done speaking. Lovino finds himself over-analysing her words too much to the point where he hadn't gotten any of the heart of the substance in her work.

And, in the end, he had nothing of worthy substance to say regarding what she'd written.

One by one, the others begin to share their thoughts on the piece. When it's Lovino's turn, he doesn't realise it immediately, but he does when all of their eyes fall on him.

He clears his throat, straightening up on his seat. "I think it was, uh… nice."

"'Nice'?" Another girl, she's sitting directly in front of him right now, echoes in a nasal, condescending tone. "Just 'nice'? Her words were light. Eloquent. Feminine. Her words had a melody to them akin a song. And all you have to say is 'nice'? Were you _even _listening—"

Just as Lovino was about to retort, the girl whose work was being discussed cut him off, "Hey! Don't be so mean to him, Liv. Not everyone is a pro like you," the girl turns to face him. She has two blond pigtails and big blue eyes. Girl next door vibes. She smiles at him reassuringly. "Thanks."

For her sake, he tries not to scowl (too much). "…Tch. Whatever."

Lovino makes sure to pay more attention this time. The person beside Pigtails is fully decked in washed-up hair metal frontman garb. He has fluorescent pink hair in a sloppy mop that reminds Lovino of plastic lawn flamingoes, ghastly pale skin, and a fuckton of piercings and crappy, generic tattoos.

_His hair clashes with his clothes, _Lovino absently notes, eyeing the neon green cutoff on the man's lanky form he wouldn't touch with a ten-foot pole. Briefly, he wonders if he'd ever sink that low if he went off the deep end. On another note, Lovino guessed that there were a lot of eccentric characters in EHU. International community, after all.

Highlighter Bastard then recalls the night he went to the cemetery alone at night to visit his deceased mother, who succumbed to leukaemia several months ago.

(Out of guilt, Lovino drops the 'Bastard' from his moniker and calls him Highlighter instead.)

Highlighter's writing is sad and haunting. It's evident that he hasn't healed from his mother's passing yet with the brevity of his words, the way he spoke of her as if she were still there with him. Lovino tried to feel the sadness culminating within him from the very depths of his soul, but… he just couldn't summon it. Not truly. He felt bad for her and for Highlighter, yes, but the sympathy he feels can never match the sorrow Highlighter is experiencing at the moment.

Albeit the fact that he's lost his parents, it was at a young age, and it had no significant psychologically traumatising impact on him whatsoever. Honestly.

So he just can't relate.

Next is Liv the Shitstain's turn to read. It's hard to focus on someone's writing when that someone was a snarky bitch you wanted to strangle, _ragazza _or not.

Lovino shook the thoughts out of his head._ No. Nope. No. No thoughts of strangling anybody, dammit!_

Shitstain was actually decent at writing. (More than decent, actually, but y-you didn't hear that from him, okay?) Her writing was good enough to make you feel like you were actually with her in the Starbucks near the campus. That was her location of choice.

He guessed that she was what most people would call a seasoned writer. Thing is, she _knew _she was good, so she acted like she was pretty damn entitled.

Maybe she is.

Either way, Lovino didn't give a shit.

…B-Because it was his turn pretty soon. One more person, and it'll be him being put on the stands next.

_Dio_, why did it feel like Judgment Day? Did— Did the room suddenly grow smaller or something? Because he found it hard to breathe.

Glancing down at the paper in his hands, he found himself rereading his work over again and suddenly, it all became insubstantial.

It didn't seem good enough anymore.

These people… were better than him. _Loads _better than him. They had the passion for literature, and he didn't.

A-All he did was write, and even then, he wasn't— wasn't good enough.

If there was one thing he could do well, it was to fuck things up.

Suddenly, it's his turn now. Everyone's staring at him again.

He gulps, reaching for the paper and raising it up with shaky hands. All the words suddenly seem like blurry blotches of black ink, and he gives a small shake of the head. "I can't— I can't do this." He whispers more to himself than to them.

"Will you _hurry up_—" Shitstain starts before Lovino snaps and cuts her off.

"_Per l__'__amore di Dio_, will you give me a _goddamn minute_?" He orders more than he asks.

Pigtails places a hand on his arm and leans in closer to him. "Hey, are you feeling okay?"

He inwardly rolls his eyes in exasperation. _Why does everyone keep on asking me about my fucking wellbeing__? No fucking shit, _idiota_, not when you have panic attacks every other day!_

"I'm fine," he answers automatically. He pauses, takes a breath and continues talking. "I just— I've never let anyone read my writing before. Okay? So just give me a minute, dammit."

"Is everything alright?" Professor Sharp asks, startling the flustered Italian.

"Fine." The latter reiterates, running a hand through his hair.

"He's never shown anyone his writing before," Pigtails spills simultaneously. Lovino gives her a horrified look.

The professor's eyes widen in surprise. "Really? Wow. Let us hear it then! You have nothing to be afraid of."

Lovino raises an index finger up. _Just a minute, _his hazel eyes say. His erratic, shallow breathing slows into steady breaths.

Several seconds pass and he begins to read, often stuttering over some of his words. Professor Sharp is looming behind him, grey eyes examining his paper as he read it out for the rest of his group to hear.

When he's done, Shitstain is the first to speak, her tone sharp and condemning as she pontificated, "I feel like you've missed the _entire _point of the essay. Sure. You were on point for the _first _few lines, but it just fucking _strayed _and deviated way off track, so… Try working on that. Stay on point. Know what you're writing about."

He glanced down at his paper. She had a point. His heart sunk to the bottom of his stomach.

Pigtails spoke next, "Personally, I think it was really, really nice! It's like there was this build-up going on, and continually, it culminated until it reached this zenith and became like this sort of poem-y song. It just had this rhythm that pulled you in, since it had some lyrical qualities. It's great."

Upon hearing her review, he felt a smidgen bit better. Like, _maybe_, he wasn't a lost cause.

The guy seated beside him, Stripes, because he was wearing a striped t-shirt, piped up, "I kind of agree with Beth and Liv. You kind of strayed from the topic, but the end product was nice. Philosophical. You make really nice analogies."

Lovino nodded, feeling a bit more hopeful. Highlighter was the last to give his critique.

"I think it was good. Really good. I just— can I have that?" He reached forward, motioned for the paper in Lovino's hand. Reluctantly, the Italian handed it over to him. "Thanks— I feel like I can read this over and over and over again and not get bored or fed up with it very easily. That's quite a feat, in my opinion, since I can read a passage once or twice, and never bother with it ever again. I feel bad for you though. It sucks feeling like you're not good enough."

"Thanks." Lovino says. Highlighter hands him his paper back and the Italian takes it. Quickly, Lovino turns to face the professor, but she's already at a different group.

The discussions end, and everyone goes back to their seats. Professor Sharp continues talking about the previous topic of the importance of workshops, and elaborates a little bit more on what she'll be expecting from them.

Lovino has to write a story.

It was a _no shit _moment since, yeah, he's taking up creative writing. Still, he wasn't quite sure of himself. He doesn't know if he can pull through. He needs something to awaken his muse.

At the end of the class, Professor Sharp has everyone hand in their assignments. Lovino, being in the back of the room, is the last one to submit his, setting it atop the stack of essays.

"You did good, Lovino." She tells him, pulling the pile of miscellaneous books and papers into her arms. She smiles. He nods in response. Then he returns to his seat to grab his backpack.

* * *

><p>As Jacqueline Sharp exited the classroom, Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo had spotted her (and the huge stack of papers in her arms) and made his way over to her.<p>

"_Hola_, Ms. Sharp~ Let me help you with that, _si_?"

Jacqueline turned to him, smiling gratefully. "Thanks, Toni. You know you can always call me Jackie, right?" She deposited a few inches' worth of the stack into his tan arms.

He looked sheepish, "_Lo siento_, but I just feel like it's better to call you 'Miss' since you're a professor here and I'm just a student. Even though you dated _mi hermano_ and all,"

Lovino Vargas exited the room, backpack slung over one shoulder. He brushed past them, but not before sending Antonio a habitual glare, a scowl present on his face.

Antonio rolled his eyes in exasperation as Lovino's shoulder roughly brushed against his.

Jacqueline raised an eyebrow at the two before turning to the Spaniard. "C'mon, let's walk."

And so they did. They walked in silence for several seconds before she spoke up. "How've you been?"

Toni laughed, "I've been good. Great, actually. It's nice to have something to do again."

"You'll regret saying that by the time midterms come rolling in," she says, shifting the pile in her arms.

"You, though?"

She slowly nods, "I've been good as well. How's your mom?"

Antonio smiles sadly. "Ah, she, uh— she's been better. Basically. I hope I can visit her soon."

"Yeah… I should really drop by sometime. I'll be honest with you, I think I miss your mom more than I miss your brother."

They laugh.

Antonio's eyes inadvertently flicker down to the stack of books and papers he's holding. There's an essay at the very top. He takes a glance at the name and his eyes can't help but widen.

**Lovino Romano Vargas**

…Oh.

Oh, this is _good_.

An uncharacteristically smug smirk appears on his face as he internally shakes his head in disbelief. Finally, a gist of whatever Lovino is writing.

He expected something somewhat satirical. Something with a _lot _of expletives and, perhaps, graphic violence. But what he got was something much more different.

**It****'****s a Tuesday afternoon as I write this on my notebook. I****'****m sitting on an aged wooden bench by the gardens in Evergreen Hollows****— ****the one everyone just seems to overlook amidst all the happenings in their lives. And in turn, the garden overlooks the forest in which I have yet to venture. The view is absolutely breathtaking. The garden and the forest are one and the same, yet they are completely opposite.**

**The garden is stunning. The magnolias and roses are in full bloom, and its fragrance saturates the cool air around me. And, sadly, that****'****s pretty much all I can visibly identify in my limited knowledge of flora. Though its growth is limited and it is controlled, it ends up so very beautiful.**

**Everyone admires the gardens.**

**The forest is lush, mysterious, and free to grow however, though many never see the beauty in its natural chaos. They fear it. People are afraid of things they don****'****t know, and thus, shun them out. Things that are completely foreign to an individual. Some embrace it, though, but that is a rarity compared to people who don****'****t.**

**I glance up at the sky above me, a sigh escaping my lips. It really is just so enchanting here. How long has it been since I****'****ve taken a moment once in my life to take a breather, admire the sky, and **_**literally **_**smell the roses?**

**I don****'****t think I have. **_**Ever**_**.**

**I sit here, overwhelmed by the brilliant shades of orange and scarlet slowly fading into calmer****— ****but just as beautiful, nonetheless****— ****tones of purple and cerulean. The sun and moon are both visible, and I am enthralled to see all the stars in the sky, though they do not shine as bright.**

**Glancing up over the horizon, the blue melts over the tops of the numerous pine trees in the forest.**

**Slowly, the dark consumes the light.**

**The view before me makes me happy, yet at the same time, it makes me sad. I realised that there was a balance in everything, even in and **_**especially **_**in nature.**

**I saw myself reflected in it.**

**I stop writing for a moment. My hands tremble as I alternate between staring at the words scrawled in the last few rays of the fading sunlight and at everything that surrounds me.**

**And I****'****m thinking to myself, that maybe, perhaps, possibly, **_**I **_**am that forest.**

**I am the darkness.**

**I am the night.**

**I am the stars that don****'****t seem to shine as bright.**

**And if there is darkness, then there must be light.**

**If not, would be the dark be as dark? Would be the light be as light?**

**Ironically, in all of this, I am a twin. My twin is my complete opposite. My counterpart.**

**He is the garden.**

**He is the light.**

**He is the day that is consumed by night.**

**He is the sun that shines over earth, brightly, brilliantly, blazingly.**

**We are like oil and water. Like day and night. We will never be alike, but we need each other.**

**I only wish I could be as bright someday.**

**Bright enough to light up someone****'****s sky.**

**But who could ever love someone who envies the sun?**

"It's nice, isn't it?" A voice pulls Toni's attention away from the words that still seemed to linger in his mind.

He glances at Jacqueline, face flushed at being caught reading something maybe he shouldn't have. "I… uh…"

She nods, urging him on as a smile crept onto her face.

"_Si_," he finally admits. "It's _very _nice."

"You remember the kid that came out and accidentally bumped into you a while ago? He wrote that," she said, a hint of pride in her voice.

"Trust me, that was no accident," was what he wanted to say.

But instead, he went with, "Really?"

She nods, "Yep! He's quiet, though. He rarely talks unless he needs to."

Antonio was perplexed. He glances back down at the last few lines, trying to piece Lovino together. The Lovino _he _knew was really, really mean, talked a lot, and had curses in every other word.

But _this_…

_This_ Lovino. He was more… perceptive? He had a way with words, but did he really feel that way about Feli? If so, why doesn't he try to make himself better, then?

Why did he have to be angry all the time?

But what he wrote… it was quite sad.

Antonio's mind was cluttered with thoughts he couldn't comprehend. He felt as if there were a jumble of jigsaw puzzle pieces in his head, but not of the same puzzle.

He wanted to retort that she didn't know him in real life the way he did, but _this_— the essay— was his work, too, _si_? It's a part of Lovino as well.

Upon receiving no response, Jacqueline continued speaking, "I think that he has a lot of potential. I look forward to seeing more of his work through different literary forms."

Antonio could do nothing but nod, rereading the work over and over again as if it'd give him answers.

But to what?

He was really, really confused right now…

* * *

><p>It was lunchtime right now, so Antonio, as usual, was with his best friends, Francis and Gilbert. They were at the caf this time instead of the diner for a change.<p>

Toni was unusually quiet today. Francis was just about to ask him what was wrong until Feliciano came in with Ludwig and Kiku.

The presence of the cute Italian immediately brought Antonio out of his trance and he grinned at the Frenchman and the self-proclaimed Prussian before standing up and making his way to the trio.

This was Toni trying his hand at wooing the cute little Italian again.

He smoothly sits in the chair beside Feliciano, beaming at him. "_Hola_, Feli! What's up?"

Feli smiles back, pushing his tray of fish fillet back a fraction. "Ve~ Hi Toni! I'm just having lunch with Kiku and Luddy~!"

"Hello, Antonio-san." Kiku says, snapping apart a pair of wooden chopsticks.

Ludwig, whose attention is mainly focussed on the thick textbook in his hands, takes a second to glance up at the Spaniard and nod at him."_Hallo_, Antonio."

"Hi, Kiku. Ludwig." Toni greets, turning a bit more to face Feliciano. _Dios_, he really _is _just _so cute_! A light laugh escapes Antonio's lips as he gently cups the Italian's cheek. "Ahaha~ Feli, you have some paint on your cheek!"

He pulls his hand away, reaches for Feli's water bottle and swipes his thumb over the cool condensation before bringing it to the latter's cheek. He wipes it away, a slight blush on his cheeks at being able to touch the younger Italian without a headbutt or a kick from Feli's irritable older brother.

Just as he pulls his hand away after stroking Feli's cheek for a few moments— "Ve~ Did the paint come off yet?"— Lovino shuffles in the cafeteria, a few books in his arms.

_Dios_, why does everyone seem to have books in their arms today? Is it some kind of unspoken agreement..?

Upon seeing the Spaniard, Lovino's scowl deepens as he slams his books down on the table, startling Kiku and Ludwig.

Antonio's eyes narrow a fraction.

Feliciano ignores the expression on Lovino's face, asking him how his morning went.

The older twin made a noncommittal grunt, rolling his eyes as he sits down on his chair. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and scrolls through the screens in order to find a distraction.

Antonio sits up a bit straighter, peering up at Lovino with curiosity. He's suddenly conscious of the Italian's presence, and it's bugging him.

"Aren't you going to eat, _fratello_?" Feli asks again, genuine worry in his tone. The twins' eyes meet.

"I'll grab something later. Don't worry about me." Lovino mutters, glancing away.

Out of nowhere, a blond girl comes up and wraps her arms around Lovino's neck, leaning in.

"Hi, Lovi~!" She sang, practically smashing her chest against the back of his head.

Antonio gulped, surprised at how apprehensive he suddenly felt. No matter what, he couldn't pull his gaze away from the two, who seemed to be quite intimate with each other.

And again, that bothered him.

Why?

"_Ciao_, Bella," Lovino says in response, an easy-going smile on his lips, all traces of the scowl previously worn on his face having faded away.

_Wow. Lovino looks r-really nice when he smiles. _The Spaniard can't help but think. And for a moment, Antonio finds himself wondering how nice it'd be to make someone as unpleasant as Lovino _smile_. It seemed like an impossible feat, but the blond managed to do it s-so easily!

"Ve~ Hi, Bella!" Feliciano greeted, beaming at her. She greets him back with just as much cheerfulness.

Suddenly, she pulls back a fraction, pouting as she glanced down at Lovino. "Finally. After _all _this time, I see you again. You forgot to give me your number!"

The Spaniard can't help but raise an eyebrow. _Is she his girlfriend or something?_

As unreasonable as it was, he didn't like the idea of Lovino h-having a girlfriend. At _all_. He just— he just didn't. But _why_?

_Why _did he feel this way all of a sudden?

"_Mi dispiace_, I was in a hurry for my first class. I guess it just slipped my mind," he says, hazel eyes softening as he looked at her with tenderness. Antonio couldn't help but gulp.

Lovino, always courteous to the ladies, felt obliged to make it up to her. "How about I make it up to you? Let's go to Starbucks, on me."

A-And there was this smile on Lovino's face that made Antonio's heart skip a beat. _Dios mio._

Lovino should definitely smile more.

Maybe then, people would like him better, _si_?

She began tapping her chin with her index finger in fake contemplation. "Should I? Or should I not?" She pulls away, beaming at him. "Who am I kidding? Let's go~!"

"Great!" Immediately, Lovino stands up and slings his backpack over his shoulder.

Feli wastes no time in expressing his ebullience, jumping up to embrace his brother. "Ve~ You finally have a friend! I'm so happy, Lovi~!"

"Not in fucking public, _idiota_!" Lovino scolds, prying Feliciano's arms off of him. "_Dio_, it's not like it's a fucking miracle or anything, d-dammit,"

And Antonio came to his senses again. _There _was the Lovino he knew again. Yeah. The mean one.

Bella giggles, placing a neatly manicured hand on Lovino's shoulder. He doesn't pry or shrug it away like he did to Feliciano. "Let's go~" she says, sliding her hand down so she can wrap it around his arm.

Lovino was a true gentleman.

"I'll see you around, Fel!" She exclaims, waving at the younger Vargas brother goodbye. Feliciano waves back, bidding them goodbye.

Lovino shoots Antonio a nasty glare before being pulled away by the blond. Once the couple are out of earshot, Toni turns to Feli again.

"Wow. Is she your brother's girlfriend?" He asked, before realising a second later how weird and random it sounded. So he added, "I can't imagine anyone wanting to date your _hermano_. No offence."

There. Sounded better.

Feliciano laughed airily. "Ve~ Of course not! _Fratello__'__s _just like _me _in the terms of preferences."

Antonio was confused. "What?"

It was Feli's turn to be perplexed. _Ve~ Didn__'__t he understand?_

A small sigh escaped his lips before he gave Toni a smile. "We both like men, Toni~ Which is ironic because our _Nonno _is a _huge _ladies' man~!"

But Antonio didn't catch that last part. Because he was too busy letting out a long breath he hadn't known he was even holding in. W-Why did he feel… _relieved_?

After a few more moments of contemplation and coming up with nothing, he shrugged those thoughts out of his head and redirected his attention to Feliciano again.

He really is so adorable~!

* * *

><p><strong>Translations:<strong>

_cosa _- what (It.)  
><em>Dio<em> - God (It.)  
><em>nonno <em>- grandfather (It.)  
><em>ragazza <em>- female (It.)  
><em>per l<em>_'__amore di Dio _- for the love of God (It.)  
><em>idiota <em>- idiot (It.)  
><em>hola <em>- hello (Esp.)  
><em>si <em>- yes (It./Esp.)  
><em>lo siento <em>- I'm sorry (Esp.)  
><em>mi hermano <em>- my brother (Esp.)  
><em>hallo <em>- hello (Dt.)  
><em>Dios <em>- God (Esp.)  
><em>fratello <em>- brother (It.)  
><em>ciao <em>- hello (It.)  
><em>mi dispiace <em>- forgive me (It.)  
><em>Dios mio <em>- oh my God (Esp.)

**Belated Merry Christmas, folks! This is my present to you guys for being awesome! Whoa~ Five thousand words, where did **_**those **_**come from?**

**Review, **_**por favor**_**~!**

**~jellydonut16~**

**P.S. Have a happy new year, too! Finally, the Spamano kinda commences!**


	9. nine

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

**_Kicking the Bucket List_**

**nine**

**"_I__'__ve tried to reason,  
><em>****_I__'__m trying to see.  
><em>****_Why can__'__t you imagine  
><em>****_a successful me?_"  
><strong>**— _Bring It On _by Light Up The Sky**

"So basically, the PAS will be having a general assembly next week where the seniors will be picking out the underclassmen they want to assist them in their play, which is also their final project," Bella says, scooping whipped cream out of her coffee jelly frappé using the end of her straw. She pops it in her mouth before setting it back into the cup. "Aren't you _excited_, Lovi?"

"Hmm?" Lovino hums distractedly as he looks out of the window.

Bella's icy green eyes glance up at him, surprised to see the unmistakeable blush on his face. A feline smile crept onto her lips as she follows his line of sight. There were two guys just outside the Starbucks, a brunette and a redhead currently engrossed in a conversation.

_Which one is it? _She thinks to herself, taking a second to revel in Lovino's flushed face. As she glances out the window, the brunette walks away, yet the redhead stands. The Italian's eyes are still trained on the latter.

Said redhead turns around, and instantly, she recognises him as Allistor Kirkland, a senior taking Performing Arts. She's heard a lot about him through the upperclassmen she befriended during the general assembly last week.

Apparently, he had a lot of potential as a play director. The professors adore him because he had a unique perspective on things which truly brought the plays he's directed alive. There's speculation that if Allistor focussed his talents on directing films, he could possibly be the next Spielberg, and _that__'__s _saying a lot.

"Ooh~ He's kinda cute~" She coos, eyeing Lovino suggestively, all the whilst wriggling her eyebrows.

His eyes meet hers as his face reddens even more. He glances down in effort to conceal his face, "S-Shut up. You don't know what you're talking about, d-dammit! Plus, I— I don't even _know _the bastard."

"Right," the Belgian drawls. She was going to continue teasing him about it, but then— _'__IF YOU WANNA BE MY LOVER, YOU GOTTA GET WITH MY FRIENDS__'_— her phone went off.

"The fuck..?" Lovino mouths, glancing up at her as she rummages through her Louis Vuitton handbag. She pulls her phone out of the bag and holds it to her ear.

"Hello?" She greets, listening intently. "Ooh~!" she exclaims after several seconds, leaning across the low coffee table to tap Lovino's knee. His eyes met hers inquisitively. "Lovi, can the rest of our friends come here?"

His eyes widened as his eyebrows shot up. _Che cosa? __'_**_Our_**_' _friends?

"Please?" She pleads, pouting at him.

The Italian ensconced himself further in the armchair, rolling his eyes as he shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, whatever, dammit."

"Oh my gosh. Come here ASAP! We'll be waiting for you~!" She exclaims, straightening up in her seat. "Toodles~!"

And it was at that moment where Lovino's jaw just went slack. Bella was really radiating _Legally Blonde _vibes right now. Where the fuck did that come from? "'Toodles'?" He echoes, expression incredulous. "Fucking _'__toodles__'_? What _happened_ to you over summer break?"

A laugh escapes her lips.

"Really, Bella, _just _when I thought you couldn't get any girlier…" Lovino rants, only to trail off when Allistor walks in. His face darkens fifty shades of red as he presses his lips together and glances down at his hands again.

"Lovino," she says, secretly devising a plan for a 'Chance Encounter'.

"What, dammit?" He asks, face-palming himself in effort to hide his face.

"Lovi~" Bella says again, her tone beckoning his attention. A sigh escapes his lips. After a second or two, he forces himself to meet her gaze. "Can you get me a bagel? Like, with cream cheese?"

His hazel eyes flicker over to the redhead's form before they flicker back to the Belgian's icy green eyes. "How about no?"

"Please? With cherries and sprinkles on top?" She asks again, this time with a tinge of urgency in her tone.

"I'll get it in a minute, dammit," he grumbles, rolling his eyes.

She glances up at the senior, who is currently ordering his caffeine fix.

…O mijn God. _What if he leaves and he and Lovino never get to talk?!_

_Fast! Need to act fast!_

And just like _that_, Bella's calm, collected composure crumbled into bits and pieces.

Just like the croissant Lovino bought her earlier. Oops~?

Immediately, she stands up and totters over to Lovino in her gold Jimmy Choo pumps, tugging at his black jacket sleeve. "Get up and get me my bagel!" She half-shrieks, desperately trying to pull him up.

Everyone's attention is suddenly focussed on the pair as the sweet-looking Belgian girl frantically shakes the panicking Italian back and forth.

"_Che cazzo stai facendo_?!" He demanded, inadvertently slipping into his native tongue.

"Get me a bagel!" She urges, her expression borderline corybantic.

"_Che cosa__—_"

"_Bagel_!"

"_Sei gi__à __in piedi! __È __possibile ottenere il vostro _bagel_, dannazione!_"

"I don't understand Italian!" She manages to haul him half-way up. "Get the bagel before he leaves!"

He blanks out for a second, two seconds…

…And realisation slaps him in the face.

"_Merda_, I should've _known_!" He manages to exclaim in English, his expression scandalised.

It is then when finally, the silence settles in and the pair take notice of the (not-so) sudden silence and grow wary of the eyes of everyone in the café focussed on them.

"Holy fucking shit—" Lovino curses under his breath, face flushing bright red in embarrassment and shame. He face-palms himself, sinking back down in his seat. "Oh my God."

"Nothing to see here, people!" Bella says, sheepishly waving her hands before her. "Nothing to see! Carry on now~!"

"Oh my God," He reiterates. Just as he's about to commence his jeremiad, _Allistor _saunters up to them, coffee in hand and all.

"'Ello, Lovino." He says, smiling at the Italian, whose heart skips a beat. Shit.

Bella's eyes widen in pleasant surprise. They _know _each other already?!

"Hi, Ah'm Allistor," the redhead greets, giving the Belgian a curt nod. They shake hands.

"Hi, I'm Bella. Lovino's friend," she greets back before observing the spectacle before her. Bible (AKA 'swear to God'), if _Elizabeta _were here, she would _freak_. _Out_.

This kinda stuff is what she pretty much _lives_ for.

On a sidenote, is _this _what it's like to be a wingman? Wing… woman?

"Sorry, I— I had a moment." She says, waving what had happened aside. "I just need to go to the powder room for a second. Collect myself and all."

"Oh. Righ'." Allistor concurs, gesturing to the comfort room situated in the back of the café. "It's over there—"

Bella laughs. But it's one of those obnoxiously fake shrilly laughs that made shivers slither down Lovino's spine as he internally cringed. Fuck. "Yeah! Yeah! I'll go now! Because, I'll tell you, mister," she resignedly puts her hands on her hips, determinedly nodding her head. "I was just, like— overwhelmed with the, er, bagel feels? You know what I mean."

"U-Uh. Yeah. Sure." The redhead says, feeling absolutely nonplussed.

"Yep! I'll go now! And _you stay here _and—"

"Bella, what are you doing—" it was Lovino speaking now, pulling his face away from his hand.

"—You _talk _with Lovino, okay? Okay~!" And with that, she f-fucking _trots _to the comfort room, probably feeling satisfied as fuck with herself right now.

Shit, fuck, dammit— _argh_!

"…Okay." Allistor says slowly, taking Bella's seat opposite the blushing Italian. "Yer friend is quite th' character, if Ah may admit," he comments, setting his cup down on the coffee table.

Lovino covers his cheeks with his hand, hoping his blushing wasn't evident. Dammit, _why _did he have to be like this?! _Why?! _"Y-Yeah," he mutters. "I should probably keep her away from the coffee jelly next time."

Wait, what the fuck?

What did he just say?

Did that even make any goddamn sense?

Allistor hums in agreement. "So. 'Ow've yeh been? Yeh feelin' any better yet?"

"I-I'm fine, dammit…" Lovino chokes out.

"Oh? Tha's good." the redhead says, smiling at the Italian. And like a Subway sandwich, Lovino made like an Italian melt. Allistor groans, leaning back in the armchair. "Ah am _proper knackered _righ' now. Ah spent all nigh' 'elping me best mate, Oliver, do some last minute revisions on our script. E's a screenwriter, yeh see. So caffeine," he lifts his cup up before setting it back down. "'As basically become me lifeline righ' now. Ah go frae 'ome ta campus wif several stops ta Starbucks in between. Very unhealthy, innit?"

A small smirk creeps onto Lovino's face. "Yeah." He takes a deep breath and continues speaking. "B-But you just— you just started fourth year, d-dammit; how could it be so hectic now?"

Allistor gives the brunette a sheepish smile that makes the latter's stomach a-all fucking f-_fluttery _and s-shit… _Dio_, this is so gay.

"Fing is, Ah'm kind of… pretentious an' meticulous? when i' comes to me work, so… Ah tend ta work on these things righ' away so Ah can get i' th' way Ah want i' ta be by th' time th' end of th' year comes rollin' in. Ah've a flair for th' dramatic." The redhead winces. "An' Ah guess Ah'm a bi' of a perfectionist."

Lovino didn't exactly know how to respond to that, so he was careful with his choice of words. "I… think that no one can be 'a bit' of a perfectionist. It's either you are or you aren't, b-because…" he gulps, looking down at his hands.

Allistor leans in a fraction, as if urging him to continue.

"…if w-what you want is perfection, then there can never be just 'a bit' of it. You h-_have_ to have it all— _n-not _that it makes you _greedy_, dammit—"

"No, Ah understand," the redhead interjects, raising his hands up.

For the first time, the Italian glances up at him properly. Their eyes meet, and Allistor takes Lovino's breath away for the umpteenth time.

"Go on," Allistor says, smiling at Lovino encouragingly, those forest green eyes beseeching him.

Subconsciously, the brunette licks his lips. Briefly, he allowed himself the pleasure of drinking in the sight of the Scotsman, wholly transfixed.

"Because," he continues, his breath growing more shallow. "If you don't want it all, don't crave the faultless beyond reason, then you're not a perfectionist."

With perfection personified sitting right before him, it was then when Lovino realised that he was a perfectionist too.

There was a silence heady with_ je ne sais quoi_ before Allistor spoke. "Then Ah guess Ah'm a perfectionist. A full-on perfectionist. Are yeh one as well, Lovino?"

Lovino swallowed this lump that had formed in the back of his throat before responding, "_Si_, I'm a perfectionist too."

* * *

><p>T-There was this… unspoken tension between them that made Lovino fidget underneath his clothing, this torrent of foreign emotions fomenting within his being.<p>

All they did was look at each other dead in the eye, sharing a mutual understanding of something Lovino knew naught of yet.

Suddenly, abruptly— Allistor pulls away and clears his throat before taking a glance down at his watch, eyes resolutely avoiding the Italian's. "Bloody 'ell," he exclaims. "Sorreh, Ah need ta get back ta th' campus now. Oli tends ta get proper stroppy when Ah take too long faffing about."

The redhead stands up, grabbing his caffeine fix. "It were absolutely lovely talking ta yeh. If only we 'ad more time, yeah?" This time, the Scotsman glances up and their eyes meet. Lovino's chest constricted; he found it hard to breathe.

Allistor smiled at him. "Cheers, Lovino. Ah… Ah guess Ah'll see yeh around."

And with that, the redhead walks out of Starbucks and back to campus.

* * *

><p>Within seconds, Bella is back from the comfort station, face flushed in excitement. "Oh my gosh. That was <em>so cool<em>!" She fans herself, "Is this what Liz feels too? I make _such _an awesome wingwoman, I swear to God."

"I can_not _believe you just did that." Lovino groans, running a hand through his hair, and an incredulous smile on his face. He _tried _to keep the goofy ass smile off his face, but he just c-_couldn__'__t_. _Dio_, what the fuck's _happening _to him?!

"I know~! I can't either!" Bella exclaims giddily. "But it was _so worth it_."

And no matter what, Lovino can't seem to stop smiling. He just feels so _overwhelmed _with the sudden rush of elatedness and adrenaline. It's weird, a weird type of feeling… but it's— it's _nice_.

W-Was it a good thing..? To feel like this?

He had a hunch he was going to find out, sooner or later.

* * *

><p>"Lovino," Feliks Łukasiewicz says, sashaying in the Starbucks followed by the rest of the squad. Bella's squad. Several people stare at the effeminate Pole in alarm, the latter's voice <em>clearly<em> not matching his feminine physique. "You're looking less sour than usual today~ You're, like, _glowing._"

The aforementioned winced, wryly looking up at the blond. "Hello, Feliks. You're looking," Lovino takes a glance at Feliks' ensemble. An oversized pink cashmere sweater, a black A-line skirt, black thigh-high stockings, and studded Jeffrey Campbell _Lita _boots. O-Okay, then. "…very androgynous today. A-And I'm notfucking _glowing_, dammit!"

The Pole does this sassy hand wave, beaming at the Italian. "Oh, why thank you~! Bel, I'll totally order my coffee now, okay?"

"Yeah, of course~!" Bella says, as the others drag a coffee table and a few chairs to her and Lovino's table.

"Hi, Lovino," Michelle greets, smiling at him.

"Hey," Eliza says, currently engrossed with her camcorder in hand.

He greets them in response. Michelle sighs, rolling her chocolate brown eyes. "Sorry we're late. We had to wait for Liz to finish her homophile reconnaissance before we came here."

"Oh, God. You still spy on people?" Lovino blurts out, eyes widening in faux mortification. "Those poor fucks."

"Hey!" Elizabeta interjects, looking at Lovino pointedly before her eyes glance back down at her camcorder. "I _so _do not _spy _on people! I just take videos and those videos just _happen _to have them wandering into my shot! Plus, it's not like— _oh my God I am shipping this **so **_**_hard_**."

The Italian rolls his eyes, leaning into his seat. "That shit's going to bite you back in the ass one day, I swear to God."

She hums in response, clearly not giving a fuck. "Mhmm. Yeah. I don't really care just as long as it doesn't get in the way of my OTPs." The brunette folds the camcorder shut and shoves it back into her leather messenger bag. "How've you been, though?" She asks, glancing up at the older Vargas brother.

"He has a crush on _mfphm_—!" Bella exclaims, only to have Lovino lean over the table and muffle her mouth with his hand.

"Bella, if you could _please_ shut up, that'd be _fan-_fucking_-tastic_." He grits out, face reddening fifty shades of red.

"Ooh~" Eliza says, grinning deviously at the Belgian. "Who is it? Anyone I know? Spill!"

Michelle laughs before standing up and heading over to the counter to order her drink.

"_Over my dead body_," Lovino grits out, glaring at the Hungarian.

"Oh, don't worry~! I'll find out nonetheless. I have my ways," Liz says, grinning at the frustrated Italian. "So you might as well spill now?"

"Hmm," he hums in mock contemplation. "No."

Elizabeta frowns at him. "No?"

He nods. "No. Also? Fuck you."

"Nice."

Bella pries Lovino's hand off her mouth, shuddering. "Ugh, Lovi…" Just as she's about to speak again, he threateningly raises his hand in warning. Her eyes widen as she leans away from him, subconsciously covering her mouth, "Okay, okay! I won't tell. _Jeez_,"

* * *

><p>Every week, <em>Nonno <em>would call the Vargas twins through Skype and video chat with them. It was usually once a week, rarely twice, since _Nonno _was always out and about in the Mediterranean, doing _Dio _knows what.

Today was a Skype Night.

"Ve~ Hi, _Nonno_! I missed you so much!" Feliciano says, beaming at the camera connected to their Samsung Smart TV.

"Ciao_, Feliciano! How was school today, hmm?__"_ _Nonno _coos back, his face taking up the TV screen.

Lovino observed the two from the kitchen, attention mainly focussed on pouring himself a glass of red wine. A scoff escapes his lips as they're tugged upwards into a small smirk.

"It was great~! I had fun painting today. I really, really love this school, _Nonno_! I made new friends, and Lovi's finally made a friend too~!"

_Nonno__'__s _raucous laughter echoes throughout the apartment, making the older Vargas twin wince. _Dio_, can't he keep it the fuck down?!

"_Really?! It__'__s a _miracle_, Feli! Your _fratellone's _finally found friends! _Grazie a Dio_!__"_

"I'm glad~"

"_So, anyways, tell me more about your classes, Feli__…"_

Lovino tunes them out, leaning against the island counter as he takes a small sip of his drink. What happened earlier is still replaying itself inside his head. Over and over and over again.

_Dio_, he felt breathless just _thinking _about it— why did it affect him like this? Like, _physically_?

Is… Is infatuation or love really a feeling so strong, that not _only _does it affect your mental state, but it affects your _physical_ state, too?

Man, that— that is _downright_ _terrifying_. Who the hell would want to put themselves through something like that..? B-But then again, i-it's not like Lovino _wanted _to feel this way. Yet at the same time, he didn't want to _not _feel this way… was that making _any _sense at all?

God… is he fucking _blushing _right now?

Lovino could only blush even harder at the realisation.

...Dammit.

"Ve~ Lovi, _Nonno _wants to talk to you~!" Feliciano says, smiling at his brother. He was _so happy _Lovino wasn't going to be a sad, pathetic loner anymore.

"Yeah, give me a sec," Lovino mumbles, gulping all of his wine down before setting the glass on the counter.

Feli's phone goes off and he immediately answers it, walking to his bedroom. "Ve~ Hi, Toni! What's up?"

The older twin stilled. Feliciano's bedroom door closed behind him with a barely audible _clack_.

…_That perverted fucker._

Lovino had half a mind to rip that phone out of Feliciano's hand and put that Spanish bag of dicks in his fucking place. But _Nonno _was waiting to talk to him, so he decided to spare the Spaniard bastard from his fiery wrath.

For now.

He b-better be grateful as fuck, dammit!

He shuffles into the living room, muttering a stressed out. "_Ciao_, _Nonno_." He wasn't sure if it was only him, but whenever he talked to his grandfather, he just felt this uneasiness and anxiety welling up inside of him. He _dreaded _talking to the old man, mainly because their conversations often revolved around one particular topic…

"_Ah, Lovino. How have you been? Have you been taking care of your _fratellino_?__"_

…Yep.

Lovino feigns indifference as he shrugs his shoulders. "_Si_, I have. And I'm doing fine, I guess."

_Nonno _heartily chortles, _"__Good, good. Always make sure to keep an eye on your brother, alright? He__'__s still too young and far too na__ï__ve; he wears his heart on his sleeve and I don__'__t want him to get heartbroken like your grandfather here has been one too many times,__"_

"Of course."

"_And how are your classes going so far? Can you keep up?__"_

"I'm doing just _fine_ in my classes. And of _course _I can keep up. I graduated from high school with _honours_, if that means anything, dammit."

"_Ah,__" __Nonno _leans away from the camera, inquisitively putting his hand on his chin. _"__What was your course again?__"_

Lovino rolls his eyes. How… typical. "Of _course _you wouldn't remember," he mutters, a hint of bitterness and a tinge of irritation in his tone. "I'm taking up creative writing."

"Si_, _si_— __I remember now.__" _His grandfather's expression suddenly becomes very grave, and briefly, Lovino wonders what the hell's gotten into him. _"__Are you _sure _this was the course you wanted?__"_

Hazel eyes widen in incredulousness as Lovino crosses his arms over his chest. "Tch, isn't it a _bit _too late to ask me that question? And, _yes_, _Nonno_— it is."

"_Then how come I__'__ve never seen any of your work, Lovino?__" __Nonno _asks again, brows furrowing in seriousness.

_Maybe you just never noticed, _Lovino thinks to himself. "It's— It's _complicated_, okay? There are still a few kinks I'm working on right now, I swear to God—"

"_Lovino__… __Wouldn__'__t you have preferred taking up _business _or something instead?__"_

"…Why?" Lovino asks, hackles raised.

His grandfather sighs in exasperation. _"__Because it__'__d be easy to find a job with a business degree__—"_

"Wait, wait, wait, wait—" the older twin interjects. "_You _let Feliciano take art. How is _this _any different?"

The other's chocolate brown eyes widen, _"_Per l'amore di Dio_, Lovino. It__'__s because Feli has the _talent _and the _heart _for it. At the age of eighteen, he__'__s already accomplished so much, so I don__'__t see why not!__"_

…Okay. That kinda stung.

Lovino clenched his fists, gritting his teeth, before glancing up to meet his grandfather's eye. His voice was strangely hushed as he asked this, "And you think I don't?"

_Nonno _rolls his eyes in frustration, _"__How would _I _know, when you__'__ve never even shown me your _writing_ before?! You can only imagine my utmost surprise when you told me this summer you wanted to take up writing in college. For God__'__s sake, Lovino, what do you even write about?!__"_

The older twin's face flushes in irritation, "I— I write about a _lot _of stuff, dammit!"

"_See? You can__'__t even specifically _tell _me what you __'__write__' __about. What are you really doing, Lovino?__"_

"But I _can _write, dammit!" Lovino exclaims as his voice slowly rises in volume. "I even borrowed all these fucking books from the goddamn library so I could fucking _improve _myself—"

"_Language, Lovino,__" _his grandfather warns, eyes narrowing sternly.

But he refuses to pay it any heed. "I'm telling you, I _know how to fucking write_! I'm _perfectly _capable of doing this. Fucking hell— _why won__'__t you believe me_?"

"Dio mio_, Lovino__—" _An incredulous laugh.

That's when the desperation and frustration starts to sink in Lovino's nerves. He could see it so goddamn well in his grandfather's expression that _he _didn't think Lovino could make it. That he wasn't g-_good_ _enough_. _Dio_, _Nonno_ fucking _laughed _like L-Lovino was just a naïve, little kid who wanted to be a superhero and save the world.

Like Lovino was a naïve eighteen year-old who aspired to become someone he could never be.

"You… You think I can't do it, _don__'__t _you? You think I can't make it through this goddamn course—"

"_Stop putting words in my mouth, Lovino__—"_

"Well I can! ...B-But I can see it in your _eyes_, dammit! You don't believe me. You think I will never be good at this shit, but let me tell you: I will prove you the fuck wrong, _Nonno_."

"_Now, Lovino, I__'__m _sure _you__'__ll do well in creative writing, but _I just think _that it would__'__ve been better if you took up _business _or something__…"_

"You've had no qualms about this before—" A frustrated groan. Feliciano finally exits his bedroom and makes his way to the living room. Lovino looks at him before turning back to the TV screen. "I _know _I may not be as good at writing as Feli is at painting, but I _know _I can do this. And I don't give a shit if you don't believe me. Not anymore."

After that, Lovino storms off whilst passing through the kitchen to grab the nearly full bottle of wine atop the counter. He disappears into his bedroom with it, slamming the door loudly behind him.

_Nonno _is fuming and Feliciano is confused. "Ve~ What happened?"

The former shakes his head, jaw clenched in silent rage, _"__I__… __Your brother is__… __Let__'__s just forget about it, _si_?__" _He clears his throat. _"__How are your classes with Theodore Lennox, Feli?__"_

* * *

><p>For the nth time in his life, Lovino realises this:<p>

_It's better to stand alone than to stand with people who hurt you._

* * *

><p><strong>Translations:<strong>

_che cosa _- say what (It.)  
><em>o mijn God <em>- oh my God (Dutch)  
><em>che cazzo stai facendo <em>- what the fuck are you doing (It.)  
><em>sei gi<em>_à __in piedi _- you're already standing up (It.)  
><em>è <em>_possibile ottenere il vostro bagel dannazione _- you get your own bagel, dammit (It.)  
><em>merda <em>- shit (It.)  
><em>frae <em>- from (Scot.)  
><em>Dio <em>- God (It.)  
><em>si<em> - yes (It.)  
><em>nonno <em>- grandfather (It.)  
><em>ciao <em>- hello (It.)  
><em>fratellone <em>- older brother (It.)  
><em>grazie a Dio <em>- thank God (It.)  
><em>fratellino <em>- younger brother (It.)  
><em>per l<em>_'__amore di Dio_ - for the love of God (It.)  
><em>Dio mio <em>- oh my God (It.)

_je ne sais quoi _- n. A quality that cannot be described or named easily. French term used in English context. Literally means 'I do not know what'.

**Hey everyone~! Sorry for the really delayed update. I tried to finish this before classes started, but it just seemed so rushed and turned out absolutely horrid, and even then, I couldn't finish it in time. So I gave up cramming altogether and redid the last part over again, and I only got to upload it now. I'm totes done now~! I Skyped with the ex-drummer of the band for this chapter's song quote once. _Dio mio_, he was _so freaking _handsome. Eurgh. Anyways, he quit the band so he could focus more on his photography. He takes really nice photos!**

**But I digress.**

**During the conversation between Allistor and Lovino in this chapter, I'm sure you'll have noticed that the word '_perfectionist_' had become very prominent. If you kinda read between the lines of what Lovino said, there's this kind of quasi-subliminal message to it. It was a Freudian slip of some sort, really. If you didn't get the significance of this, I'll explain it to you:**

**According to the dictionary, a perfectionist is defined as '_a person who refuses to accept any standard short of perfection_'.**

**Since Lovino had discovered that he was a perfectionist too, and admitted so to Allistor, it was a way of stating that he didn't want anyone else other than Allistor because he's _perfection personified_.**

**Get it?**

**_Will our clueless Spaniard still stand a chance? ?_**

**DUN DUN DUUUUUN**

**Review, _por favore_~!**

**~jellydonut16~**

**P.S. ERMAHGERD RERVERS. I'm so glad you guys actually _like _this story~! Thank you for all of the follows, favourites and reviews! _Grazie mille_, you guys make my day!**

**P.P.S. This isn't the first time there's been some type of innuendo in this story. *waggles eyebrows***

**P.P.P.S. If it's any consolation, I'm 1.4k words into the next chapter~! :D**


	10. ten

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

_**Kicking the Bucket List**_

**ten**

"_**In the chill of your stare, I am painfully lost  
><strong>__**Like a deer in the lights of an oncoming bus.  
><strong>__**For the thrill of your touch, I will shamefully lust  
><strong>__**As you tell me we**__**'**__**re nothing but trouble.**_**"  
><strong>— _**A Love Like War **_**by All Time Low (ft. Vic Fuentes)**

Ah~ It's a wonderful Wednesday morning! Antonio had woken up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed because he had finally gotten Feliciano's number yesterday during lunch~ He got to call him last night as well~! It was _amazing_. He thanked his lucky stars that morning as he made his way down to the Vargas brothers' apartment complex. Things were finally starting to progress with him, and Toni had to make the next move; take the next step.

"_Buenos dias_, Feli~!" Antonio says, beaming at the cute little Italian as the latter walked out of the building. He goes in for The Hug, only to have Lovino step in between them at the last second, angry hazel eyes meeting his.

"Back the fuck up, asshole." The older twin growls out, a scowl hardening his features.

"Aw, Lovi," Feliciano intervenes, grabbing the aforementioned's forearm and tugging at it. "Not so early in the morning!"

Antonio furrowed his brows at this, lips pressed together as he looked into Lovino's eyes, as if searching for something.

After several seconds of intense staring (glaring, on Lovino's part), the latter shrugs Feli's arm off and starts bustling down the sidewalk.

_What__'__s his_ _problem _now_? _The Spaniard found himself wondering. Usually, Lovino would have this tirade of various insults directed towards him, but he was more clipped (and somewhat angrier) this morning.

"Ve~ I'm really sorry about Lovi. He got into an argument with _Nonno_ last night and he's taking it really hard right now." Feli apologises quickly, before speeding up to catch up with Lovino.

Antonio manages to grab Feliciano's hand, tugging at it. "Wait, I got you something!"

"Oh, Toni," Feli begins, only to trail off when Toni lifts his gift up. His honey brown eyes widen in surprise. A teddy bear..? Holding a bowl of pasta? A smile creeps upon Feliciano's face as he takes it from the lovesick Spaniard. _Ve~ Che figata!_

"Oh, wow, _grazie_~!" Feliciano exclaims, hugging the teddy bear to his chest. Antonio laughs at Feli's ebullience, his heart beating a little bit faster.

"You're so cute, Feli!" He exclaims, ruffling the younger Vargas brother's hair as he stepped a little bit closer.

He liked Feliciano.

He really, really, really liked him.

Like, a _lot_.

He's just so _cute_ and _nice _and _perfect_~ Antonio could only hope that one day, Feliciano would return his feelings soon~.

* * *

><p>Antonio had philosophy with Lovino for his first morning class on Wednesdays. After That Day In The Diner last week, Toni made sure to sit far, <em>far <em>away from Lovino when he realised they'd be in another class together.

Lovino sat in the back of the room, so Antonio grabbed a seat in front.

But today, since Toni felt bolder than usual, he decided to try and make amends with the grumpy Italian. Emphasis on '**try**'.

"_Hola_, Lovino." Antonio greets upon reaching the brunette. The latter stiffened, his grip on the pen in his hand tightening as he closed his notebook a fraction, as if trying to conceal it from the Spaniard. He lifts his head up to glare at Antonio suspiciously. He says nothing, merely turning back to his notebook to continue writing as his response.

The other gulps before gingerly sitting beside Lovino, setting his backpack on the floor.

Lovino stops writing. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He snippily demands, scowling at the Spaniard. "You don't sit here."

Antonio fakes an amiable smile, "Well, I am now~!"

The Vargas brother's face scrunches up in disgust. "_Why_?"

"Why not?" Toni asks in response.

A deep sigh escapes Lovino's lips before he begins to chuckle darkly. "Real fucking funny, bastard. You and I both know we can't stand each other. If you even think for _one goddamn second _that sucking up to me will _magically _make me _not _hate you, and give you my fucking 'blessing' to date _mio fratello_, then you've got another thing coming, you fucking douche nozzle, because _you are __**wrong as **__**fuck**_."

Ah~ _There _it is. The harangue.

Antonio momentarily inwardly laughed at the word 'harangue'. I-It kinda sounded like… hahahaha~

Little did he know he was actually laughing in real life.

"What the fuck are you laughing at, bastard?" Lovino barks, face flushed in frustration and his eyes narrowed.

"What do you call an ape that likes to complain a lot?" Toni asks, eager to share his joke with someone. Even _if _that someone was Lovino.

The latter gave him a weirded-out look. "What? …Wait, no, what the fuck—"

"_A harangue-utan!_" Antonio exclaims, emerald green eyes widening. "Get it? Because of the word 'harangue' and 'orangutan'?" He pulls away, laughing raucously, as tears ran down his cheeks in rivulets. _Dios mio_.

Lovino couldn't help b-but stare at the Spaniard blankly for several seconds, more nonplussed than anything, before face-palming himself. "Oh my God, that was so lame." His shoulders began to shake with poorly-contained mirth as he buried his face in his hands. "_Dio_, I am so done."

"Y-You're… you're _laughing_!" Antonio points out, eyes wide in astonishment. He felt all f-_fluttery _inside, and kinda proud of himself for making someone like Lovino laugh. Like, _that _was a major accomplishment. He should get a prize or something! People should really make awards for stuff like that~!

"_No, I__'__m not!_" Lovino roars in between his silenced laughter, trying to whack the Spaniard without looking at him, who easily dodged the hit. "…Jesus Christ. 'Harangue-utan'. I— I fucking can't—"

He rubs his face, trying to keep himself from laughing at that Spanish bastard's lame ass joke.

Seriously, it was terrible. That joke was absolutely fucking _terrible_. How the _fuck _could a shitty pun like that get him to fucking _laugh_, dammit?

Antonio could only look at Lovino in slight bewilderment and curiosity as Lovino's cheeks reddened. It wasn't just a tinge of pink, or something like that; his face was becoming _really_, _really __**red**_, _just _like a—

"Tomato!"

Whoops~. Did he just say that out loud..?

In an effort to correct himself, Antonio clears his throat and tries to save face. "You look like a tomato, Lovino~!"

Okay, much better~.

"_What?_" Lovino barks. His voice kinda comes out as shrilly because of his exasperation. Like a twelve year-old on the cusp of puberty or something. "No, I don't! Y-You fucking bastard!"

And his face reddens even more.

Toni's stomach kinda begins to feel funny. L-Like it was doing somersaults in his body.

…Did he eat something bad earlier?

Aside from that… Lovino looks quite— dare he say it— _cute_ at the moment.

_Very _cute~.

Subconsciously, Antonio licks his lips as Lovino begins to rant again.

About what?

Toni didn't know. He… _kinda _tuned Lovino out, so it all kinda became white noise. Y'know, the sound prehistoric TVs make when it doesn't have any signal?

_Pshhhht~_

So he just sat and stared at the frustrated Italian.

_Dios_, his eyes are pretty. Are they brown or are they green?

He squints a bit.

Maybe it was a mix of both? That's pretty cool~.

Lovino's mouth abruptly stops moving as his hazel eyes flicker over Antonio's shoulder.

The Spaniard is somewhat pulled out of his trance as he takes a glance behind him.

There's a girl standing there, probably the one who sat beside Lovino in this class last week, and she's wondering why Toni is there, sitting in her spot.

He glances back at Lovino, who is _trying _not to let any expletives seep into his words. His voice is velvety, smooth; yet its timbre is low, with undertones of his Italian accent evident in how he pronounced some of his words.

Lovino's voice is only nice when he talks to girls, Antonio notes. Actually? _Lovino__'__s_ only nice when he talks to girls, _period_.

He feels somewhat perturbed by this, but he hasn't any clue why.

Emerald green eyes linger on Lovino's face, which had visibly relaxed in the face of a predominantly X-chromosome-d individual.

A charming smile tugs at the corner of Lovino's lips and suddenly, Toni's breathing grows a little bit more shallow.

…Wow. H-He's so _**cute**_—

Hazel eyes suddenly meet his own and he internally flinches. They've gone cold again. How does he keep on doing that? How _can _he do that, even?

Was there like an _on/off _switch for the Italian's good mood or something..?

"Class is starting. Better get up, asshole," Lovino growls out. His tone is sharp and commanding now. The Spaniard couldn't help but feel a twinge of hurt, though Lovino's used the exact same tone on him before.

Antonio gulps before subconsciously licking his lips. He suddenly finds it hard to look Lovino in the eye, so his eyes are downcast, focussed on his lap. "Ah… _Si, si_. _Lo siento_, I… I'll go now."

He stands up and grabs his backpack before heading to his seat in front of the class.

"_Finally_," the girl exclaims in exasperation, flopping down on her seat beside Lovino. "Good riddance!"

Together, they laugh. Antonio's grip on his backpack tightens.

The professor came in and checked the attendance before beginning the lecture. As much as he wanted to, Antonio couldn't really focus on the lesson being taught. No, his attention was being drawn to the mercurial Italian seated a couple of rows behind him.

Every once in a while, he would take a glance behind him and look at Lovino.

He and the girl beside him didn't talk anymore; the latter was too busy paying attention to the professor. But Lovino… he just sat in his chair, and stared straight at his desk, eyes unfocused. He seemed distant.

Like though he was there, physically, his mind was elsewhere.

He wasn't even writing.

Antonio wondered what kind of thoughts were running through the enigmatic Italian's head.

* * *

><p>It was after their philosophy class when Antonio tried to talk to Lovino again. He approached the Italian, his heart rapidly beating against his chest as his palms started to sweat. It became hard to breathe.<p>

Why was he even doing this, though?

Then again, why not, right?

Lovino had finished stuffing his notebook in his backpack when he glanced up and saw the stupid Spanish bastard staring at him again. Man, what the _fuck _is this guy's _problem_, dammit?

"What now?" He snaps, his glare freezing to arctic proportions.

Antonio opened his mouth only to close it again. He did this several more times before Lovino finally scoffed at him, face twisted in distaste. "Jesus. You're a fucking retard."

He slung his backpack over his shoulder and left the room.

Toni let out a deep breath, running a hand through his unruly hair. _Dios_, what was the matter with him? Why couldn't he say anything? He _had _it in his head— he had what he wanted to say on the tip of his tongue, yet being in the mere presence of someone he didn't know how to approach had left the words dying on his tongue before they even had the chance to be spoken. He had no problem talking (arguing) with Lovino before. Why was this so different now?

This is really, really weird.

M-Maybe he should talk to Gilbert and Francis, _si_?

* * *

><p>It was lunchtime once again when the Bad Touch Trio decided to rendezvous in the atrium and eat their lunch there. Gil set his textbooks full of code (he was taking game design at EHU) down on the granite table and voraciously began to chow down on his double cheeseburger.<p>

Francis had opted to bring his own lunch of coq au vin leftover from last night's dinner whilst Toni went to the canteen to get himself some lunch.

Several minutes later, the latter comes back and sits at the table, his visage somewhat clouded, like there was something bothering him.

Gil glances up mid-cheeseburger and reaches over to nudge Antonio's arm. "Tone, you okay?"

Toni breaks away from his thoughts, shaking his head slightly. He gives the self-proclaimed Prussian a reassuring smile. "Ah, _si_, I am. I was just… thinking."

That… That came as a surprise. Truth be told, Antonio isn't exactly the type to sit and reflect, so hearing this immediately piques the curiosity the other two.

"About what?" Gil asks.

As if it took quite an amount of effort, the Spaniard draws and releases a long, heavy breath. "…Stuff."

"Well, what kind of 'stuff', _mon ami_?" Francis presses, his blue eyes glazed with concern. Antoine's acting _very _weird at the moment. He never got this quiet unless there was something really serious bothering him.

"Yesterday, I ran into Ms. Sharp." Toni begins.

"Yeah, you told us about that already," Gilbert comments before taking another bite of his burger.

"And I helped her carry some of her stuff, _si_? Because she had this really huge load in her arms, and it looked very heavy! She had all these books and papers; I wonder what all of those books were about. It's like everyone I saw had a stack of books in their arms that day and—"

Francis places his hand atop Antonio's in quasi-exasperation. "_Mon Dieu_, Antoine; please stay on track."

"I'm getting there! So as we're walking, I glance at the top of the pile in my arms and I see it's something Lovino wrote."

_Lovino..?_

Gilbert and Francis share a glance.

"So I was like, why not, right? Surprisingly, his writing sounded _nothing _like how he talks in real life. I-It's as if it was written by an entirely different person."

"How so?" Francis asks.

"I don't know, really. Like, he started off by describing this forest, then describing a garden. He had a way with words, like they just meshed together really well. And he didn't use bad words like I thought he would either. It was nice, the way he used gardens and forests as metaphors and all…" He trails off, glancing down at his hands. "He's more perceptive than I thought he was. And I think there's more to Lovino than what he lets other people see."

Again, Francis and Gilbert glance at each other with concern and slight surprise. Was Antonio going through a Shift already?

_Gott_, that was fast.

Because, y'see, Toni's a great guy. Really. The dude's _nearly _as awesome as he is. But he _is _human, and humans have flaws. That is a fact. Being susceptible to Shifts is one of Toni's flaws.

He gets attached to people really, really easily. He becomes infatuated, borderline _obsessed_; thing is, he loses interest in people just as quickly as he becomes interested in them. He's always been like this. Francis and Gilbert have witnessed it enough to have a moniker for it; Shifting.

It usually ends badly. Like, for the people he's infatuated with before his interest Shifts. He gets their hopes up. They think he feels for them as strongly as they do for him, and in that moment, he truly does. There's no malice. There are no lies. But the moment someone else catches his eye, he drops that person like a hot potato.

It's a vicious cycle, but it's the way Antonio is. It's sad, really, because once you strip it— the Shifting—down to its very husk, no matter how nice and genuinely kind he is, Antonio _uses _people. He toys with them and their emotions, though he doesn't mean to. He could _never _do that to a person on purpose— he's completely unaware of it. Gilbert and Francis have been thinking of how to break it to him for a while now.

It was odd, though, for Antonio to Shift his attention so quickly. Especially if one were to compare the time it took for Toni to lose interest in one person and be infatuated with the next. With how passionately Toni spoke of Feliciano, Francis and Gilbert had thought that _this was it_. That his feelings were _real _this time, after pursuing the Italian so vehemently, only to end up having his attention drawn to the other Vargas twin.

But, seriously, why _Lovino_ of all people?

This is bad.

This is really, really bad.

Gilbert, for _everyone__'__s sake_, could only hope that the Spaniard's soon-to-be infatuation with Lovino would pass just as swiftly as it came.

* * *

><p>"'But who could ever love someone who envies the sun?'" Antonio says suddenly.<p>

Francis raises an eyebrow at the statement. Where did that come from?

"H-He wrote that. Lovino, I mean." The former answers, licking his lips. His eyes are trained on something, some_one_ across the atrium. He's looking at Lovino, who's hanging out with the other freshmen from their alma mater who are taking Performing Arts.

He's staring at the Italian _so intently_, so _silently_. It really is… _odd_ seeing Antoine act like this.

"Antoine, are you _sure _you're okay? You're very quiet right now, _ami_, and it's starting to worry me."

Antonio glances up at the Frenchman and gives him a reassuring smile. "Ah, don't worry about me, Franny~ I'm just kinda wrapped up in my own thoughts, is all~!"

After a few seconds of silence, he speaks up again, "Say, Franny; do you think Lovino and I can ever become friends?"

The blond internally face-palms himself. _Mon Dieu_, this was really happening, wasn't it?

Antoine is _seriously _Shifting his interest to Lovino, isn't he..? And he isn't even aware of it.

"Um," Francis starts, already knowing that the Italian would rather drop dead than befriend the bubbly Spaniard, _let alone _him or Gilbert— especially after That Day In The Diner. "_Mon ami_, Lovino is a very… Hmm. How do I say this? He is quite hard to get along with, Antoine, and given the circumstances between the both of you, I personally think that a friendship between you two would be very… unlikely."

Immediately, Antonio is crestfallen. "R-Really?"

The Frenchman inwardly frets, trying to do some damage control. He waves his hands before him in a dismissive manner, "But don't take my word for it, Antoine! Who knows? Maybe someday, you two will become wonderful friends! Despite your differences, don't let that stop you!"

The brunette grins, feeling much better. "Ah~ Thanks for that, _mi amigo_~ You always know what to say~! I'll try and talk to him the next time I see him~!"

* * *

><p>"Oh my gosh, you guys," Feliks starts, dragging someone to the squad as they congregated in this cute, little patisserie Michelle discovered the other day. "Meet my new boytoy~. Toris, say 'hi'!"<p>

Toris is an anxious-looking brunette, fidgeting about in discomfort. Hesitantly, he glances up at the group before finding his resolve and clearing his throat. He stands up a bit straighter as he nods at them. "Hello, my name is Toris Laurinaitis."

"Aww~ You are _so cute_~!" Elizabeta coos, beaming at the Lithuanian. She pulls her camcorder out of her Nine West bag. Inconspicuously, she mutters under her breath, "I ship it."

Feliks waves her off, "Hands off, Liz; he's _mine_."

Lovino rolls his eyes as he turns to Bella. "Remind me again why I'm here?"

The Belgian pouts at him, and points at her quivering bottom lip. "Because of this~" she says in a mockingly pitiful tone.

He growls and pushes her face away, and she squeals, laughing.

"So, Toris," Michelle says, crossing her arms over her chest. "What course are you taking? Do you go to Evergreen Hollows too?"

"Ah, yes I do. I—I'm taking up sound engineering."

"Cool— Oh, yeah! Take a seat!"

"Oh em Gee, 'Chelle, your brows are, like, on fleek today!"

"Aww, why thank you!"

"Lovi," Bella taps his arm, bringing his attention away from the rest of the group. "You remember my little brother, Henri, right?"

He raises an eyebrow at her. "_Si_, I do. Why?"

So Henri's kind of a kid prodigy. He doesn't go to the same school as Lovino and Bella did, but instead, he goes to this really prestigious (thus, obscure) institution for other brainboxes with IQs like his. He's even a member of freaking Mensa. He could very well PWN Feliciano in regards to academics.

The kid is _practically _a future president in-the-making. He isn't just science-y or arithmetically smart, but he was really _smart_, smart. Even at a young age, he already had his eyes on the prize. He wanted to bring in The Big Bucks.

An excited squeal escapes her lips, "He got in! He's skipping a year, so next fall, he'll be taking up pre-law in Harvard~! Isn't that _cool_?!"

"So?" Lovino scoffs.

"So, I'll be throwing this _super-ultra-huge _party at my place Friday night~! Wanna come? It'll be _so fun_!"

The Italian cringes at the prospect of having to deal with other people. Eurgh. Even when he was still a little boy, he was already aware of the fact that he lacked the savoir faire other normal people would have.

Like that one time he and Feliciano had a joint birthday party, because no shit, they're _twins_. They were, like, turning six years old back then? Anyways, they invited all of their classmates over to their home for the festivities. _Nonno _cooked up a feast, and the entire backyard was decorated with faggoty streamers and helium-inflated balloons the colours of the rainbow.

Classic picture, right?

The shitty brats started arriving at nine o' clock, so they played a few games until it was time to eat. And by 'they', that meant everyone else but Lovino.

Sure; the game of tag was fun, but when it was time for hide-and-seek…

Alright. Truth be told, Lovino thought he was _the shit_ for finding a great hiding spot (it was in the scary as fuck shed at the edge of the yard). Thing is, his hiding spot was a bit _too _good.

Yeah, that's right, bitch. Nobody found him.

He just f-fucking _sat _there in that ratchet ass shed, waiting for them t-to start _counting _or something. So all of the remaining kids in hiding would come out so they could start the game over again.

But nobody started counting.

_Dio_, it was _so hot _in that dingy shithole, the heat came rolling in, in waves that washed over him in the form of gross sweat. He _wanted _to come out, but his pride wouldn't allow him to!

He gave it a few more minutes, thought about getting out, and decided to exit the shed several more minutes after that. He felt like he was going to pass out already, dammit!

The moment he exited that shed, the cool spring air soothed his feverish skin. He fell to the ground and his mind started spinning.

In the distance, he could see all of his classmates gathering around the 2 picnic tables with all the cake and all the food. They were singing the happy birthday song, and Feliciano was the sole celebrant (not that anyone noticed), excitedly eyeing the cake _Nonno _bought.

It was then when it hit Lovino that they weren't even looking for him in the first place.

He could do naught but watch in silent horror as his brother blew the candles out without him and as everyone cheered for the only twin present. Like, how fucked up was _that_?! It's a fucking _joint birthday party_. For _twins_. And those assholes weren't even wondering where Lovino _was_.

So he just sat there, thinking,_ Fuck you._

_Fuck _**all**_ of you._

_Fuck you, fuck your dad, fuck your mom._

_Fuck you all to hell._

_I hope you pieces of shit get salmonella and die._

_Nonno _didn't even give a shit that _one half _of the celebrants _wasn__'__t even there_. He just cut the cake for all of them with this dopey smile on his face. Eurgh.

It's safe to say that Lovino flat-out refused to have anymore joint birthday parties after that.

"…Lovi? Lovi. _Lovino._"

The aforementioned Italian is brought out of his reverie thanks to Bella lightly slapping his face. He swats her hand away, "What, dammit?"

She gives him a weird look. "Are you okay? You blanked out on me. I think I just saw your life flash before your eyes."

He rolls his eyes, shaking his head slightly. "It— It's nothing, dammit, so don't worry about it."

The blond eyes him inquisitively a little longer before she opts to shrug it off. "…Sure. Anyways, you'll come, right? To the party?"

"Uh…"

"_Please?!_" She pleads, seizing his hand and bringing it closer to her.

"The fuck?" He sputters out, pulling it away from her grasp.

"It's gonna be _so fun_. I _promise _you, you will have the _time of your life_."

He sighs, slowly shaking his head.

"Lovi, please? It's not often that I get to throw parties!" She straightens up, determined to improve her argument. "Look. My parents are away for the weekend; they're going back to Luxembourg to visit Nana. I fought _tooth _and _nail_ with Lars just to throw this party. Like, you know how much of a penny-pincher he is! And it'd mean _so much _if you came! I've never done this party-planning thing on my own before, and I want this to be, like, a night to remember. One so memorable, that when we're all old and wrinkly, we would look back at this in bouts of nostalgia and think to ourselves, 'hey, remember that _crazy_ party Bella threw at her house that one time?' and you'd be there, in your cute little rocking chair, going like, 'yeah, that was an insane party, dammit', and—"

"Bella, you're ranting. Stop." Lovino interjects, clapping his hand over her mouth. "Also? That was a _terrible _impression of me."

She rolls her icy green eyes, pulling his hand away from her mouth. She pouts at him, "So you'll come?"

He stares her down for several more seconds before sighing, rolling his eyes. "_Fine_, dammit. But _only _if you promise me to _never _do that again."

She raises three fingers up, grinning at him. "Scout's honour!"

* * *

><p><strong>Translations:<strong>

_Buenos dias_ - Good morning (Esp.)  
><em>Che figata <em>- What a cool thing!  
><em>Nonno <em>- grandfather (It.)  
><em>grazie <em>- thank you (It.)  
><em>hola <em>- hello (Esp.)  
><em>mio fratello <em>- my brother (It.)  
><em>Dios mio <em>- Oh my God (Esp.)  
><em>Dio <em>- God (It.)  
><em>Dios <em>- God (Esp.)  
><em>Si <em>- yes (Esp./It.)  
><em>lo siento <em>- I'm sorry (Esp.)  
><em>mon ami <em>- my friend (Fr.)  
><em>mon Dieu <em>- Oh my God (Fr.)  
><em>Gott <em>- God (Dt.)  
><em>ami <em>- friend (Fr.)

**The plot thickens. Oooo~ If you****'****re wondering how the ding dang doodly Antonio is IC in this, Himaruya****'****s revealed that Spain ****'****might as well have ****"****two faces****" ****like Russia****'****. I wanted Toni****'****s character to have more depth, so he****'****ll be kinda two-faced in this fic.**

**So I kinda got stuck with the BTT scene here. I suck at their characterisation, so if there****'****s anything OOC, or anything I can do to portray them better, please do tell me. :D**

**Lovino will finally get to cross something off his list. Who can guess what it is?**

**And thanks so much for all the wonderful feedback~! All the favourites and all the follows~ I hope this story will mean just as much to you as it does to me.**

**Review, **_**por favore**_**!**

**~jellydonut16~**

**P.S. **_**A Love Like War **_**is my JAM! :D**


	11. eleven

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.  
><strong>**Warning: Contains pseudo-interior monologue, all-caps, alcohol and substance abuse.  
><strong>**Reader discretion is advised.**

**_Kicking the Bucket List_**

**eleven**

**"_I__'__m scared to get close, and I hate being alone.  
><em>****_I long for that feeling to not feel at all.  
><em>****_The higher I get, the lower I__'__ll sink.  
><em>****_I can__'__t drown my demons, they know how to swim._"  
><strong>**— _Can You Feel My Heart _by Bring Me The Horizon**

…So the Spanish bastard's been acting _really weird _lately.

Like, it wasn't just 'weird'— because that shitstain's _always _been weird— but more on 'weird**_er_**'.

Like, sure, the dipshit would be in front of Lovino and his _fratello__'__s _apartment building every morning— what's new, right?— and he would proceed to give Feliciano his stupid 'Love Offering'.

Yeah. That's become a regular thing, _si_?

But the thing is, _immediately _after that, the dickhead would go straight to _him_— _Lovino_— and start talking to him like they were the best of friends..!? Seriously!

Like, what the hell, asshole?

What did that douche nozzle think of him, dammit; some sort of _obstacle_? A boss monster at the end of a level to defeat?

Or was it just some sort of '_keep your friends close; keep your enemies closer_' kind of schtick, because that shit will _not _fly by him so easily. The Spaniard's games of invasion of personal space and quasi-stalkery will prove to be useless as fuck, dammit, because _no matter **what**_— not even over Lovino's swinging, lifeless body, will that Spanish bag of _horseshit _**_ever_** get into Feliciano's pants!

It just fucking sucks now that he has this stupid Spanish bastard following h-him around like s-some kind of l-lost _puppy _or something, dammit!

God, why won't he leave Lovino alone?

As a side note, do people even make chastity belts anymore? …For _men_?

Because his _Virginity Guardian Armour_'s showing a fuckton of weakness right now. Like, _why the fuck _won't it work on the fucking bastard?! Is— Is he too _stupid _or something to comprehend the fact that he will _never _stand a chance with Feliciano? That dickweed will _never _be good enough for his _fratello_.

Even Lovino himself wasn't good enough for his _fratello_.

Like, that's— that's fucking saying… a _lot_.

* * *

><p>I-It's lunchtime and Lovino's feeling <em>kinda<em> edgy.

Actually? He's feeling _absolutely murderous_.

His breathing is growing shallow, his palms are sweating, and his blood is boiling. He's starting to see red, and he's pretty sure he's going insane. Wanna know why?

"Aww~ Are you in a bad mood again, Lovino~?" Antonio asks, having waited for Lovino after his science class.

…Yep.

No, seriously, dammit. After he had walked out of the classroom, the piece of shit was standing _right there_, l-_looming_; _anticipating_… like some psychotic stalker o-or something. For fuck's sake.

Lovino clenches his fists, glaring at the Spaniard. "Why the fuck are you here?! Why won't you leave me the fuck alone, dammit?!" His hazel eyes are _furious_, something darker within their depths.

The older twin is livid. He doesn't want this at _all_. Like, it's bad enough that he has to restrain the asshole from hitting on his brother. But this? This was _too much_. And it's as if he can literally feel his self-restraint crumbling. H-Have you ever felt so**_ pissed _**at someone, you _kinda _just wanted to punch them in the throat, beat the living daylights out of them with a shovel, and drag their bloody, unconscious bodies into the ocean? Because he's totally getting those vibes right now. Cheh, let the assholes sleep with the fishes, dammit.

_Dio mio_, these idiots are going to be the death of him— if not the reason for his incarceration, that is. Fucking hell.

The furious Italian swallows the lump forming in his throat as he resignedly ignores the Spaniard, who's hot on his heels and talking his head off.

W-What the hell; is he _seriously _going on about fucking _turtles _right now? And farm animals?

What the fuck is wrong with him, dammit?!

_Why?!_

_Why _can't he fucking _shut it_?!

He could feel himself reaching his breaking point.

_One more, _he inwardly seethed. _Just _one more _word, and I__'__ll__—_

The stupid Spaniard pokes his cheek. His mind blanks out, and not in a good way, either. "Aww~ Lovino~ You look like a squishy tomato~! Ahaha~"

_Hahahahahahahahaha~_

Antonio~.

**You're _fucked_!**

Lovino draws his fist back and punches the fucker in the face. Antonio stumbles back, clutching his nose as he hissed out muffled Spanish expletives.

He doesn't wait a moment to make his escape. At the last second, a hand latches onto his wrist, pulling him back. It's Antonio, who's now equally pissed. He rears his fist back and punches Lovino's face with lightning-quick speed.

Before they know it, they're in a full-out brawl in the middle of the fucking hallway. Punches and kicks are thrown, but with the adrenaline rushing through the Italian's veins, he hardly feels a thing.

Albeit the fact that the Spanish bastard was strong, Lovino had the experience that gave him an advantage. Seems like getting beat up and beating up those that bullied Feliciano had benefitted him after all, _si_?

Lovino manages to grab hold of the Spaniard's shirt collar and inadvertently dragged him out to the courtyard, where there were many spectating the altercation, though none were showing any signs of intervening anytime soon.

"What the fuck is your problem, _pendejo_?" the bastard sputters out, irritation evident in his tone as he pried Lovino's hand away from his shirt and shoved the Italian back.

"Well, what the fuck is _yours_?" Lovino retorts, stepping closer to the Spaniard 'til they were toe-to-toe with each other. "Stop stalking me, dipshit! What the fuck are you trying to do?! Creep me out into letting you date my brother? Because I fucking _think not_—"

"What is going on here?!" A professor booms, striding across the grass towards them. Immediately, two random spectators break out of their trances and pull the two mediterraneans away from each other, both still sputtering curses at the other in their respective native tongues.

"He started it!" Lovino decries, directing an accusatory glare at the Spaniard. "He's been annoying the hell out of me for _days on end_! I swear to God, he's been fucking _stalking me_ like some kind of creep, dammit!"

"Newsflash~! What if, maybe, I just wanted to be your _friend_, Lovino?!" Antonio roars back, struggling against his human restraints. "Oh, wait~! You wouldn't _know _because you don't _have any~_!"

"Fuck you!" The other shrieks, before the professor finally puts his foot down.

"Alright, that's enough!" The professor bellows, spittle flying from his bearded lips. "Come on, people. We're old enough— rough-housing solves _nothing_!"

"Fucking _stalking me _solves nothing!"

"Ahahaha~ Don't flatter yourself, Lovino~."

"Bullshit! You were looming outside my class like some kind of beady-eyed little twerp! What the _hell _is your problem?!"

"Well, maybe, my problem is you!"

"I _knew _it, I just fucking _knew it_."

Someone immediately spans the distance from the corridor to the fuming Italian upon observing the spectacle before her. It's Bella. She gently touches his forearm and he flinches. "What— What's going on?"

"A fight is what's 'going on'." The professor mumbles, voice laced in disapproval. "Do you know these two?"

Immediately, Bella channels her inner actress and tries to get Lovi out of this terrible mess. "Oh~!" She fakes a gasp, covering her mouth with her hand. "That's _terrible_—"

She leans in closer to the professor, expression grave and serious. "I'm sorry, sir," she says, playing the pity card for Lovi. "Thing is, my friend here has a been through a _lot _of stuff. He was nearly, uh, _kidnapped_. As a _child_. The one who lured him in was this little boy his age then, and thankfully, I was able to chase him on my… uh, my _bike_ and I just— I caught the kid? And I— I just did a double-whammy on him and he kinda blacked out, but bottom-line is: my friend here is has been traumatised by it ever since. It makes him all paranoid, and when someone even just _follows _him for six consecutive seconds, he kinda has the tendency to _snap_. So… So that's what happened."

The academician skeptically cocks an eyebrow up, as if to say, 'Do you really expect me to believe that shit?'

The blond nods in insistence. "It's true~! So _please_ let him off easy just this once, sir? ...And the other guy too, I guess."

"This is ridiculous!" He exclaims before heaving a heavy sigh. He turns to face the two delinquents, crossing his hairy arms over his chest. "Alright. Fine. I'll let you two off the hook_, __only _if you—" he pointedly glares at Lovino. "—make sure to reign your emotions and your paranoia in. You will constantly put your peers in the way of bodily harm if you keep that up."

Not waiting for a response, the professor quickly turns and trudges back to the general direction of the faculty room.

Lovino shrugs off the arms of the guy holding him back, glaring hatefully at the Spaniard who refused to meet his gaze. The former then turns to face Bella and his blood runs cold.

Her green eyes are icier than ever as she has her arms crossed over her chest in disappointment. Well, shit.

* * *

><p>"I don't understand why you had to get into a fistfight with someone the second week of school," Bella mutters, voice laced with disapproval as she dabs at Lovino's face with a frozen tenderloin steak. Like, thank God for Saran Wrap. The Vargas brothers had no frozen peas in their apartment, which was weird because frozen peas were usually a staple in most households, right?<p>

"Trust me, Bel," he mumbles in a nasal tone. "If you were in my shoes, you would've punched him too. Hell, maybe even worse!"

"…I seriously doubt that." She pulls the semi-thawed steak away from his face and tuts at the damage, shaking her head. His face was kinda scratched up in general, but the left side of his face took brunt of the damage. "Alright, about the party tonight. I'm going to swing by around six or so, so you better be ready by then, okay?"

Lovi sighs, taking the steak from her and flopping on the couch. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever." He continues pressing it to his nose.

If this is going to be a regular occurrence, he should really invest in a goddamn icepack. Or at least a pack of— of fucking frozen peas or something. Mixed vegetables and shit.

She sits beside him, reaching for the remote and turning the TV on. "Where's Feli?"

"He's having lunch with his stupid friends again. As usual." Lovino grunts.

"Does he know what happened between you and that— that other guy?" She asks, raising an eyebrow as she surfed through the channels.

"Ngh. No? Maybe? Probably? I'll bet he'll give me one of his stupid, lengthy sermons again when he gets back home from class. Fuck my life."

"Oh, come on. It can't be _that _bad, right?"

Lovino looks at her like she's sprouted two heads. "Are you fucking kidding me? Last time he lectured me was, like, over summer break. So he just came back from a shitty outing with his even shittier friends, right? And I'm just, like, here, in my room, doing my own thing; minding my own business. Then Feliciano fucking came in like a proverbial wrecking ball, going, '_fratello_, why don't you have any friends?! We should make this summer memorable before we go off to college!' and sentimental crap like that.

"So I was like, 'What the fuck, Feliciano? Go away', but he just fucking _stood _there at my doorway for, like, an hour, sermonising me about how I should make the best of my youth like he did and shit like that. Ugh, it was terrible. He kept on quoting stuff from Inspirational Quotes on Facebook. 'Life only comes around once, so do whatever makes you happy, and be with whoever makes you smile'. 'Don't wait for the perfect moment; take the moment and make it perfect'. Oh my God. Atrocious."

"…Wow. You poor baby."

"Shut up, Bella." He weakly punches her.

"You _actually _memorised the quotes, you hypocrite." She hits him right back using her clutch.

* * *

><p>It's around four PM when the door to the apartment opens and is unceremoniously slammed shut by none other than Feliciano.<p>

It's an 'oh shit' moment for Lovino, who instantly closes his Macbook shut with one hand, a frozen pack of two dory fish fillets in the other, gingerly pressed upon the side of his face. He fidgets a bit from his position of lounging on the couch.

Feliciano strides up to him, leaving his backpack by the door. He crosses his arms over his chest and impatiently taps his foot repeatedly against the floor.

Several moments of one-sided, _infuriating _silence befalls them before Feliciano breaks it with a snippy and shrilly "Well?!"

Lovino has to bite on the inside of his cheek to keep himself from sheepishly smirking at his brother. Without skipping a beat, he answers with a nonchalant "'Well', what?"

"You know 'what'!" Feliciano retorts, frowning at him in fervent disapproval. "Why did you have to do that?! Toni _never _did anything to you!"

A sarcastic chuckle escapes the other twin's lips. "Hah, _right_." The smile immediately drops off his face in an instant, no humour whatsoever in his facial expression or tone. "The bastard's been clinging to me like a goddamn leech! He's— He's been _annoying _me non-fucking-stop—"

"That doesn't mean you can _punch _him!" Feli is borderline corybantic.

"I can and I did!" The other Vargas bellows, sitting up straighter on the couch. "We _hate _each other; anyone and their mother can see that. The shifty motherfucker's been avoiding me like the plague since That Day In The Diner; now he suddenly flips 180º, fucking _stalking me_, and now _I__'__m _in the wrong?"

"You punched him first, _fratello_—"

"He was fucking _asking _for it! Now get off my case, dammit. Why— Why the hell are you even sticking up for that piece of shit? _I__'__m _your brother—"

"But he's my _friend_, Lovi!"

Well. Fuck if that didn't hurt.

Hazel eyes widen in shock and anger. But mostly anger.

Fuck, he was _so fucking pissed_.

"So?" Lovino is standing now, arms defiantly crossed over his chest. "So what you're saying is that you'd rather _stick up for someone you just met_ instead of your own fucking brother—" he throws a hand up, a dry laugh escaping his lips as he rolls his eyes. "Great! That is so _fucking great_."

Feli frowns at him, tears threatening to fall from his honey brown eyes. "I've lost a lot of friends because of you, you know that? And I don't want to lose any more!"

Lovino's heart sinks to the bottom of his chest, and in that moment, he wants nothing more but for the floor to consume him and swallow him whole. His throat constricts painfully, and tears sting the back of his eyes. Finally, it all comes out, huh?

The younger twin wipes at his face with the back of his paint-stained hand. "_Dio_, Lovi, why do you have to be so difficult to talk to?"

Lovino licks his chapped lips, forcing the lump down his throat as he tried to find his voice. It came out hoarse; throaty. He forces a grin on his face when he wants to do nothing more but to run and escape.

"Hah, funny. When am I _not _difficult to talk to? I've always been like this. The day you should start worrying is the day I acquiesce to whatever you have to say."

With that, he storms into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

Tears roll down his reddening cheeks, rage and sadness fomenting within his being all at once.

'_You idiot!__' _Lovino wanted to yell at the door. _'__You fucking idiot! You don__'__t know how much I gave up for you, and you just fucking throw it all away!__'_

His breathing grows shallow as he sinks to the ground. His eyes flicker over to the bedside table containing the bucket list before focussing his needing gaze on the _Nike _shoebox that contained his sweet salvation fashioned out of rope.

* * *

><p>Six PM had finally rolled around. Feliciano had exited the apartment an hour earlier to have a study session with his beloved friends, so he was all alone now. The older Vargas brother was able to get ready for tonight's party in unsettling silence. He donned a black button-down, dark wash jeans and black Vans.<p>

He briefly considered leaving a note, since he didn't get to tell his _fratello _about the party. But he thought about the argument that had transpired earlier, and then he got re-pissed about it.

No note for you.

Asshole.

Lovino jogs out of the apartment building. As if on cue, Bella pulls up in front of him in her boisterous yellow Corvette convertible. Elizabeta is riding shotgun, smirking at him.

"Hey~!" Bella says, beaming at him. "You look great!"

He fakes an easy smile, complimenting them right back. He gets in the backseat and Bella turns to face him, face flushed in excitement. "You stoked?"

He rolls his eyes, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't know— whatever, dammit. Just drive already."

She then sets off for her house on the other side of the city.

* * *

><p>The Janssens Manor was a luxurious mansion that boasted of wealth and class. It exuded a certain vibe that ran along the lines of 'SHIT SON, THEY LOADED AS FUCK' that would have a line of butlers and maids in the foreground of the rich, green lawn, wearing Raybans at night while aggressively doing the shmoney dance.<p>

Yeah, or something like that.

Don't ask.

Bella rolled up the red brick driveway, past the water fountain, and stopped right in front of the modernist styled house. The party was already well underway as the music was cranked up to the highest volume, the front doors thrown wide open and teeming with partygoers.

He clambered out of the convertible, following Bella and Liz into the mansion as the blond left her car keys into the hands of a valet.

Hazel eyes glanced up at the pristine white mansion, drinking in the structure's architecturally aesthetic qualities. Despite the fact that he's been here before, it still captivated him.

Amidst all the people, there were huge strobe lights hung up from the building's high ceilings, darting over and around the room, like the eyes of a predator choosing its prey. There was a DJ in one corner of the living room, bopping his head to the beat.

The abstract art sculptures that usually resided in the living room were apparently tucked away, same for the many paintings Mr. Janssens had invested in.

It left the mansion a little bit more bare, a bit more colder, but it was for the best.

Frosty blue lights lit up the hall before him, slithering up the metal railing of the obsidian marble stairway. It was nice. Really nice.

Just as he breaks out of his reverie, he instinctively turns to find Bella— only she's not there. He lost her in the crowd. She's gone somewhere, and now, he's all alone.

After an accidental shove rooted him out of his spot, he forced his feet to more to the general direction of the living area. He spots her across the room. She's surrounded with her friends from their former high school and her new friends from EHU.

She looks happy.

Since he doesn't know majority of the people she's eagerly talking to, bringing the drinks out, he decides to brave the party on his own.

He hasn't the heart to distract her or pull her away from her friends.

S-She has her own life a-and many more friends after all, dammit…

**(Just like Feliciano.)**

Again, he found himself slowing down, in the middle of the living area as he tried to c-comprehend his thoughts.

D-_Dangerous _thoughts.

It was a room full of people that made him feel very much alone. It was something he was accustomed to— the loneliness— though he had yet to embrace it. He'd figured he might as well, since it's all he's ever known.

As he made his way through the crowd, the music was on full-blast, its backbeat resonating throughout his chest, pummelling his eardrums with every synthesised drop of the bass.

It was still so early; the night was still young, yet his peers were already going on a straight path to their own drunken undoing. People were already lining up outside the bathrooms, guest bedrooms and walk-in closets.

As if his mind were in a trance, he absentmindedly weaved his way to the kitchen, where there were a group of people preparing their game of beer pong. He grabbed a red plastic cup— a party staple in any household— and concocted himself a Jack cola. Languidly, he took a sip. The fizz of the diet Coke sizzled the back of his throat, though it did not overpower the bitter undertones of the Jack Daniel's on his tongue.

He lingers there for a while, awkwardly nomming on handful after handful of Doritos and Cheetos. He daren't even touch the Lays since potatoes suck.

Having nothing better to do, he decided to go upstairs, see if there was anything worthy of his interest.

With every jaded step up the staircase, before him, he saw numerous couples lining the walls, not paying the Italian any heed for they were too caught up in their intimate osculations. The lights were dimmed, leaving it up to the unwilling spectators to guess whom was who by their faint silhouettes.

The corridor was fuggy; consumed by smoke. It airily wafted around his person, the scent embracing his clothing as if someone had lit a handful of incense sticks, though the smell was much more… different.

It didn't smell of incense, nor did it smell of cigarettes or tobacco… but it seemed to run along the lines of the latter two.

Out of boredom more than curiosity, Lovino deftly treads across the carpeted floor and makes his way to the room where the smoke seemed to be originating from.

It was a bedroom, several people within it. They were mostly seated on the floor. There, he spotted Bella and Henri's older brother, Lars.

He had a blunt in hand, eyes red as his gaze fell on the intruding Italian.

"Shit." Lovino hisses under his breath, face reddening. They saw him. "Um. Sorry."

"You're Bella's friend, right?" Lars slurs, tilting his head up from his position sitting cross-legged on the floor.

The corner of the Italian's lips quirks down. "…Yeah, I am."

Lars motioned him forward. After a moment's hesitance, he steps inside, hazel eyes darting around, taking in its surroundings.

A girl is in the far end of the room. She's got pasty skin and turquoise dreadlocks, and she's playing the bongos whilst humming something under her breath as she sways from side to side.

There's a circle of people in the middle of the room, like some weird weed-smoking cult as they take turns passing a rainbow glass bong— in what seemed to be the shape of a fancy-looking uterus— around.

Then there's the blond girl beside Lars. She has a nearly consumed blunt between her index and her middle finger, the rest of her fingers nimbly wrapped around a red cup. She is half-sprawled atop of him, one of her legs tangled with his. The studded bra she's wearing looks uncomfortable.

Lovino awkwardly stuffs his hands into his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels. "Well? What do you want, dammit?" He huffs, brows knitting together.

Lars eyes him for several more seconds before silently raising the blunt up to the Italian, whose eyes widen. A small smirk creeps onto the spiky-haired blond's lips.

Nervously, the brunette licks his lips before tentatively grabbing the joint with his thumb and his index finger, taking a seat on the floor adjacent to the couple.

"I… What— What the hell do I do?" Lovino asks.

The girl beside Lars sits up a fraction, "You do this,"

She brings her blunt up to her lips, inhaling it, filling her lungs up with the smoke. She tenses a fraction as she holds it in for several seconds before slowly exhaling the smoke out through her puckered lips. Her body visibly relaxes as she slumps against Lars, cuddling him.

The older Vargas brother nods reluctantly in acknowledgement before doing the same, bringing it to his lips with trembling fingers. He accidentally inhales it too quickly, and he pulls away; starts choking.

A random tattooed guy from the Bong Circle comes up and pats him on the back, ignoring the stiffening of the Italian's body at the unexpected contact.

_Don__'__t touch me, _the Italian automatically thinks.

Once Lovino's eyes stop watering, he tries it again. He slowly inhales the smoke. They burn his throat on the way down to his lungs, and as much as he wants to pull away, he doesn't.

When he reaches his limit, when his lungs are filled with smoke, he holds it in and hands the blunt back to Lars, who takes another hit.

"Yeah, just hold it in there. You'll loosen up real soon, bro," Tattoo Guy chortles, patting his back.

_But I__'__m not your __'__bro__'__, _He inwardly thinks again. _Don__'__t you fucking __'__bro__' __me, __'__bro__'__._

Not even five seconds later, Lovino lets the smoke out through his nose, his nostrils and his eyes burning at the sensation.

He absently rubs his nose, waiting for the high to wash over his being like a tidal wave.

Nothing.

So he tries it again, taking the blunt from Lars again. Then he hands it back.

…Still nothing.

He doesn't feel a thing, so he stands up, thinking it was a fluke or something. "Thanks, I guess," he mumbles, walking out of the room. He downs the rest of his drink before making his way past the many couples again.

From the top of the stairs to the second floor, he observes the party going on below. He vaguely recognises several people he used to go to school with scattered in the crowd, jovially dancing, drinking and socialising…

He gulps.

Lovino walks down the stairs again, once or twice stumbling over the occasional couple that took to the stairs instead of the walls.

He needs to find something to do. Maybe he should just go home?

But… Bella.

He tries looking for her amidst the flurry of people surrounding him, but he doesn't see her. He feels lost.

Unneeded.

Unwanted.

Dangerous thoughts.

_Dio_, why was he invited to this party, anyway? Why did he even agree to come? He _hates _parties.

Because this _always _happened in social gatherings; events; parties.

He was a social pariah; a loser, basically.

B-But he thought that— that maybe, because Bella had invited him, it'd get better. After all, they _were _friends, right?

Right?

S-So he thought he wouldn't be a-all alone anymore…

But he is.

He's alone right now, attending the party of someone that isn't even fucking there, and the place is jam-packed with people he doesn't even know.

Fan-fucking-tastic, right?

And— And what happened with Feliciano earlier didn't help jack shit either, d-dammit…

Ugh. Fuck life.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, Feliciano and his friends were in their usual hang out place. The diner. The Bad Touch Trio is with them, too~!<p>

"Ve~ I'm really sorry for what happened earlier!" Feliciano vehemently apologises to Antonio for the umpteenth time. "Lovi isn't usually _this _violent, so I guess he was in a really, really bad mood or something!"

"Ah, it's okay, Feli~!" Antonio says, smiling at the Italian, faux naïf. Actually? It was _not _okay~! His face still hurt _a lot_.

B-But the thing is, what didn't upset him was the fact that he and Lovino got into a fistfight or that he got punched in the face; it was the fact that Lovino disliked (or full-out hated) him enough to punch him the first place.

It was confusing, really…

Whenever he saw Lovino, he felt _inclined_, in a way, to… to get to know him better…? Because there could be so much more beneath all those anger issues, _si_?

He wasn't really sure.

It kinda made him feel bad that his body had immediately retaliated like that. Even though it was necessary for him to.

It was like Lovino was kinda... '_up there_'; up _where_, Antonio didn't know, but it was too high up for Antonio to reach.

It was like Lovino was… _untouchable_.

Yeah~.

Untouchable.

Like no matter what he did, there would always be this barrier that would prevent them from getting along with each other.

No matter what, they could never be 'friends'.

But why was there a barrier in the first place? Why did the Spaniard want to break it down, or get past it— even if it meant getting socked in the face— so badly?

He was really, really confused right now~!

So he did what he does best. He shrugged the boggling thoughts out of his mind, focussing on the cute little Italian before him, poring over the preliminary sketches for one of his plates for art class.

"Say, Feli?" Antonio asks, beaming at the Vargas twin.

Feliciano glances up. "Ve~ Yes, Toni?"

"W-What—" The Spaniard swallows the lump that had formed in the back of his throat. "How about we go out?"

Feliciano's honey brown eyes widened. "What? Where?"

"Y'know… 'Out' out. How about we go out for breakfast tomorrow morning? I'll pick you up and all~."

The Italian felt cornered. He just— he didn't think of Antonio in That Way (ve, but he sure knows someone he _knows _he likes in That Way~), but… maybe, if it makes up for what happened with Lovi earlier? (Speaking of which, he'll have to make it up to his _fratello _later… Lovino usually means well, but what he did was wrong. But maybe Feli should have talked to him using a different approach instead of putting him on the spot like that, _si_?)

"Ve~ Okay…" He murmurs, tilting his head to the side in the fraction.

Antonio beams at him, reaching over the table to pinch Feliciano's cheeks. "Aww~ You're too cute, Feli~!"

* * *

><p>He's returned to the kitchen, which he's dubbed his domain. He downed one more cup of Jack cola and one of Vodka Red Bull, trying to get a good buzz going on so the night would be more tolerable. He grabs a shot glass with the rim lined with salt and grabs a sliver of lime. It's vodka, straight up. The Italian manages to down three shots before grimacing at the taste. It was at room temperature. Fuck.<p>

His stomach feels all fiery and hot from the vodka, but he feels loose enough to grab a beer.

As a side note, the people playing beer pong are getting tipsier.

It's when he decides to go outside when it finally hits him. Hard.

The high, that is.

And just like _that_, all the anxiety that had knotted in his stomach j-just… melted away.

In that one transcendental moment, reality and fantasy had blurred into one fucking beautiful, psychedelic, _chaotic_ mess.

It was like looking at the world through one of the many camera effects on the Photo Booth app on his Macbook, or through the Slow Shutter app on his iPhone. He dubbed it Weed Vision. It was trippy as fuck.

He felt like he was floating on cloud nine, his footsteps feeling airy and light, as he made his way to the pool. People are dancing around it, hot, sweaty bodies writhing and gyrating to the music.

With his Weed Vision, everything contorts, distorts in slow motion— kinda like a Salvador Dalí painting coming to life right before him. It's pretty, and it's nice, and it's pretty nice.

A light laugh (giggle) escapes his lips as he flops down onto a divan and rolls around, spectating the crowd.

Several minutes pass and he's _bored_.

**B-O-R-E-D.**

In his haste, he sits up and looks around the area. Should he dance?!

Should he? Should he? Should he?

He takes a second to think about i— _yes he will_.

Lovino slides off of the divan and stumbles over to the throng of people. There's dubstep thumping through the speakers and _holyfuckingshitthatbass _and—

BANGARANG

WUBWUBWUBWUB  
>WUB WUBWUB<br>WUB WUBWUB

BANGARANG

WUBWUBWUBWUB  
>WUB WUBWUB<br>WUB WUBWUB

FEEL GOOD

Lovino is already aggressively krumping to Skrillex before his mind even registers it. People make a space for him because he's fucking amazing and special. They're even cheering him on!

Whilst doing so, he's downed the bottle of beer and the bottle just— just fucking went away somewhere!

He continues dancing, and the music mellows down to something a bit more… s-sensual. _Latch _has everyone clinging to a dance partner, their bodies moving together in perfect harmony to the song.

Damn, where did these two come from? He found two pretty girls writhing against him serpentine, trailing their fingers down his clothed chest. Albeit his sexual orientation, he can't help but find it a-arousing. Fuck.

The girl pressing herself up against him from behind brushes her lips against the lobe of his ear and he stiffens in realisation, albeit his incoherent thoughts.

It's then when he begins to panic. His breathing grows shallow as the sweat on his brow rolls down his cheek. His chest painfully constricts as his head spins.

He doesn't want this.

He d-doesn't want to be _touched _like this.

The girl in front of him is slowly sliding her hands up his button-down, caressing his smooth, creamy skin.

No.

No no no no no no no_nononononono_—

**_No._**

Out. He needs out right now.

_Dio mi salvi._

Suddenly, abruptly, he excuses himself from the two seductresses and decides to make his escape post-haste. Despite the fact that they do not follow him, he runs, anyway.

As soon as he is far, far away from them, the _vixens_, he can breathe easy again. He could handle women, yes, and he was very good at it, but for fuck's sake, _not like this_.

He needs more alcohol, he decides. So he ventures back to the kitchen and finds himself drawn into the game of beer pong. It had escalated into beer wars during his absence, with double the tables, double the cups, and double the booze.

That being said, he manages to slip away from the game after drinking several (and then some) cups of beer. There's more lively music in the living area, so he finds himself rushing to it, his high still going strong.

He finds himself lifted up and— whoa, since when did his shirt get unbuttoned?— carried to the two dudes holding a beer keg up connected to a hose via the tap. He reaches for the hose and beer is steadily pouring out of it before he even gets to direct it to his mouth. The booze dribbles down his face and to his clothes. _Dio_, what a fucking mess.

He downs a pint or so's worth of PBR before he's set down. Immediately, he sets himself on ridding himself of his shirt. Hurling it somewhere, he then focusses on undoing his pants— it was doused in beer, anyway, right?

Plus, there was a fucking pool _right fucking outside_! Carpe diem, right?!

Bella's house is **the shit**.

* * *

><p><em>Clack.<em>

"Ve~ _Fratello_, I'm home!" Feliciano greets, opening the door to the apartment he and his brother shared. The living and kitchen area is empty. All in the apartment is silent.

Maybe Lovi fell asleep or something~. The younger Vargas brother locks the door behind him shut, his hand clutching the take-out he got for his _fratellone_.

He makes his way to Lovi's bedroom, rapping his fists on his door. "Lovi? …Lovi, wake up! I brought you dinner!"

Silence.

Unnerving silence.

Normally, Lovino would be up already, interrogating Feliciano or complaining how the latter had roused him from his slumber.

A small frown creeps onto Feliciano's features, his stomach twisting in anxiousness (for what?) and concern. He knocks on the door several more times, calling Lovino's name out, receiving no response.

He gulps, almost hesitantly reaching for the doorknob and twisting it open. He pushes the door back, only to find the slightly messy bedroom empty.

The haphazardly bed is still made. Where did _fratello _go?

Feli hurries to the kitchen area across Lovino's room and sets the take-out down. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, dialling the older twin's number. The dial-tone is on, b-but he isn't— he isn't picking up.

The Italian begins to panic. Where could he be? Lovi _never _goes anywhere without telling him!

He _especially _**_never _**goes anywhere without his phone!

All he could do was hope that Lovino comes home from wherever he is right now soon, or at least hope that his _fratellone _was safe…

* * *

><p>"Cowabunga, bitch!" Lovino yells out, running out of the house in his boxers before doing a cannonball dive into the pool.<p>

He's in the water. He feels happy, so, so very happy being in the water.

He feels it swishing, swirly around him like a pretty rainbow, only in blue. A blue rainbow.

_Wooosh~!_

_Wooosh~!_

Oh God. _He is a cyclone._

In that moment, he becomes fucking Poseidon, god of the goddamn motherfucking seas. His arms flail around the water before he holds his breath and swims the bottom of the pool.

_Wooosh~!_

_Wooosh~!_

It feels all nice and tingly around his body. His legs are kicking the water, they're in slow motion.

In that moment, he is in The Matrix. He is Keanu Reeves, dodging imaginary bullets.

_HAHAHA TAKE THAT, YOU MOTHERFUCKERS_

_YOU CAN__'__T TOUCH ME_

_YOU CAN__'__T TOUCH **THIS**_

Underwater acrobatics aside, his lungs are burning. He needs air or else he's gonna _drown_ and _die_.

…_OH GOD._

It's a race against time as he wades his way up back to surface.

_Woooosh~_

**Faster.**

_Wooosh~_

**_Faster._**

_Woosh~_

**_FASTER FASTER FASTER FASTER FASTER_**

_Woooosh wooosh wooosh woosh woosh woosh__—_

He's out! He is _alive_!

GOD BLESS AMERICA.

BUT GOD BLESS ITALY FIRST. _D__IO_, THAT FUCKING AMAZING COUNTRY OF HIS.

It's _home_.

But he was born in America.

But fuck that shit.

Italy will always be his true home because it has nice food and lots of pretty ladies who don't blatantly molest him like some of the fucking sluts here.

_Hello?!_

Like, at least have the _decency _to fucking _introduce yourself to someone before you shamelessly rut against them in goddamn public like a mutt in heat, you thirsty bitch._

He's floating in the water now, staying afloat. Fuck, it's cold.

After catching his breath, he slinks back into the water, where it's warmer. It whips his hair in all directions.

Holy _shit_.

…Is this what Ariel feels like?

Under the sea?

Suddenly, he's in The Little Mermaid. He is Princess Ariel, who got a shitty haircut and dye job from Ursula, that nasty fucking shit bitch cunt fucker with the ratchet ass weave. She screwed him/her over. He/She should've gotten a haircut at Supercuts or something instead. At least there would've been like. More credibility?

There are sea creatures at the bottom of the pool. They're singing, but somehow, it's like this garbled version of Ke$ha's 'We r who we r'.

God.

**They _suck_.**

B-O-R-I-N-G!

He swims out of the pool, climbing out of it. He's sh-sh-sh-_shivering _l-l-l-like s-s-some g-g-goddamn d-d-d-dog.

_Brrrrrrr~_

He then gets this really fucking _awesome idea_!

He should make a fucking _fire_!

Like, a _bonfire_!

Then he and everyone can dance and twerk around it and sing Kumbaya while they all get _blazed_.

Weed is good.

Weed is nice.

Weed is second to life, but only because tomatoes and pasta and pizza and gelato and _everything Italian _are first in life.

Oh my God.

_He__'__s Italian_, so that means _he__'__s **first in life**!_

An ebullient giggle escapes his lips as he claps his hands. _Finally_, he's _first in something_!

But _first_ off~! HAHA AGAIN! 'FIRST'!

Wood.

He needs wood.

And n-_not _the kind you get in the morning either, you fucking perverts..!

He needs wood from trees.

He needs tree wood.

Yes.

Tree wood.

Not the huge lumpy part, but the smaller parts.

Y'know, _the** thing**_.

God. What were they called again?

B-Brun… Bran…

Bracket?

Twig?

Stick?

_Per l__'__amore di Dio, the thing._

Log— no, _fuck_, no!

…Tree.

Tree wood.

Tree stick.

Stick wood.

Tiny logs.

Tiny tree lump thing— the fuck?

Baby trees— no, Lovino, those are _plants_. Saplings.

_Dammit._

…Giant twig?!

Fuck, it's on _the tip of his tongue_!

Tree b-b-b…

Oh God.

Finally.

**_Tree bones._**

_Magnifico__._

He quickly sets off to find tree bones, but winds up inside. _Talk Dirty To Me _is playing right now, and it is _so his jam_.

FUCK.

Everyone is more energetic than ever, they're all jumping! Jump, jump, jump!

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA~

Oh God. The strobe lights.

Fucking pretty colours.

He stares directly at them, he doesn't give a flying, flipping Shamu-shaped fuck if it gives him an epileptic seizure or something. He's krumping again.

He's krumping his way to the top.

Which happens to be the pool table Feliks is twerking on top of.

Bella is with him downing jelly shots like they're running out of style.

"Hey, Bella!" Lovino exclaims, shaking from both the cold and the excitement.

WHAT A WONDERFUL AGE TO BE IN.

**"Talk dirty to me!"** Everyone cheers. Bella pulls Lovino up on the pool table and the Italian tries his hand at twerking. The crowd cheers for him, urging him on. He almost falls off the table, but manages to save face by diving into the crowd.

They catch him, and like good, obedient little servants, they carry him around the room.

In circles.

_Around _and _around _and _around _and _around _and _around_.

He suddenly has the munchies.

He has them real _baaaad_.

"There! Take me to the kitchen!" He exclaims, pointing at the destination and commandeering his sea of people like a valiant Roman general. (THESE ARE HIS PEOPLE, DAMMIT!)

"Faster, slave!" Lovino bellows.

Oh God. There should totally be people trains. Crowd surfing trains.

_Dio_, that'd be _the shit_. You would be carried by a bunch of people, passing you over until you got to where you needed to be.

People trains. Amazing.

The moment they drop him off, he raids the cupboards and pulls out a bag of air.

AKA Lays.

He pulls it open, sitting on the counter and laughing as he stares blankly at the party before him, not eating the potato chips.

Oh God. Such _preeeeeetty_ colours.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, Henri's friend Malcolm slowly drives up the driveway to the Janssens mansion after a session of hardcore exam reviewing and a meeting with his Mathlete club.<p>

Henri's light brown eyes widen in alarm; so do Malcolm's as they observe the spectacle before them in silent horror.

The mansion is a mess. There's debris everywhere.

And the music, it's practically reverberating, shaking the very foundations of the house!

Then a fat guy runs past them, buck naked. Streaking across the once-pristine lawn.

"Keep driving." Henri commands, eyes narrowed in urgency. "Hurry up, before they see us!"

They drive right back out of the mansion's gates.

* * *

><p>It's nearing one AM and the party is still on-going. To say Lovino is drunk is an understatement— he's dead shit-faced. He's never been this drunk in his life before.<p>

But fuck it. YOLO, right?

Perhaps this mindset is why he's in the midst of helping a few guys duct tape some poor, unfortunate fuck to the wall. The kid made the mistake of passing out on the couch, leaving himself completely vulnerable, and now, he was paying the price.

Many of the party-goers have either left or occupied one of the many guest rooms and closets.

Lovino's lost his clothes, but whatever.

The group of hooligans pull away to inspect their handiwork. The guy is firmly taped to the wall and he still hasn't woken up. Fucking priceless.

They jeer and laugh before drunkenly stumbling over to the dining area to play a game of Bullshit. This is the first time Lovino's ever drunk straight out of a box of wine. He would usually have enough know-how to critique the wine based on his own experience, but he's just too _drunk _right now to even register a goddamn thing.

Somehow, he managed to acquire a yellow Spongebob Squarepants necktie and fake neon pink Vans sunglasses. Little does he know that some of the cards in his hand are facing the other players, but it doesn't even matter no more.

A few of the others are still sober enough to take advantage on it, so when Lovino lies and someone calls bullshit on it, he complains incoherently in Italian— '_mangia merda, succhiacazzi_'— drunkenly reaches for the fairly thick stack of cards in the middle of the table and begrudgingly pulls it towards himself.

Shots are still going around, only instead of Vodka, it's whisky straight-up.

An hour later, Lovino isn't sure how long he can keep this up. The others aren't doing so good either.

Like flies, the last few people standing begin to drop face-first onto the table, totally and utterly schwasted.

But he, like the valiant and commandeering reincarnate of a Roman general he is, keeps on fighting the vision that is blurring, occasionally fading to black as he stumbles over someone's leg and crumbles down to the floor. He scrapes himself off the ground and aimlessly staggers around for several more minutes before all fades to black with a barely audible _thud_.

* * *

><p><strong>Translations:<strong>

_fratello _- brother (It.)  
><em>si <em>- yes (It./Esp.)  
><em>Dio mio <em>- Oh my God (It.)  
><em>pendejo <em>- asshole (Esp.)  
><em>Dio <em>- God (It.)  
><em>Dio mi salvi <em>- God save me (It.)  
><em>fratellone <em>- older brother (It.)  
><em>per l<em>_'__amore di Dio _- for the love of God (It.)  
><em>magnifico <em>- magnificent  
><em>mangia merda, succhiacazzi <em>- eat shit, you fucking dick sucker (It.)

**Hey guys! Sorry for the late update. I just finished my midterms, and I got kinda stuck on a _lot _of the parts here for a while. I don't think anyone of you can fathom how _long _I've waited to use this song. _Can You Feel My Heart_, for me, is quintessentially _Romano__'__s song_. I've had this song and the weed-smoking thing in mind since before the plot for this story was ever even conceived. In the original scene, though, there was supposed to be a hot NedRoma make-out session. But then Scotmano happened, so there needn't any of that.**

**I would _really love _to hear from you guys~! What do you all think of how this story is progressing thus far? Am I doing well? Constructive criticism is welcome.**

**(_Dios mio _I thought this chapter would never end asfdjaskjfdsn)**

**~jellydonut16~**

**P.S. Some parts of high!Lovi was based on what I've witnessed in real life lol (AKA the laughing and the not eating Lays scene; only that was with barbecue-flavoured french fries and marshmallows the size of your fist).**

**P.P.S. _Please _review~! You know I'm serious bc I'm using italics. Maybe I should underline it too.**

**P.P.P.S. _Please_ review~! Ah, _there_. Magnifico.**


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